THE  IDEALS  AND  TENDENCIES 
OF  MODERN  ART 


The  Ideals  and  Tendencies 
of  Modern  Art 


BY 


EDWARD  CLARENCE  FARNSWORTH 

n 


PORTLAND,   MAINE 

SMITH  &  SALE,  PRINTERS 

MDCCCCXVII 


COPYRIGHT   1917 

BY 
EDWARD  CLARENCE  FARNSWORTH 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

GENERAL  INTRODUCTION        ....  3 

MODERN  PAINTING        .  .  ...         II 

MODERN  POETRY 53 

MODERN  MUSIC 77 


^69.179 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 


GENERAL   INTRODUCTION 

OTANDING  on  the  beach  and  facing  the  broad 
O  ocean,  one  sees  the  flood  tide  sweeping  toward 
him  in  majestic  waves  each  at  farthest  somewhat  nearer 
than  its  predecessor.  Its  supreme  effort  exhausted, 
every  wave  recedes  leaving  only  a  wide  expanse  of 
empty  sand  which,  to  the  hasty  observer,  might  indi- 
cate the  failure  of  the  waters  in  their  mighty  task. 

That  human  progress  is  tidal,  that  it  manifests  in 
waves  analogous  to  those  of  the  ocean  which,  seem- 
ingly free,  are  yet  subject  to  law,  is  apparent  to  the 
historian ;  but  why  so  he  cannot  tell.  Nor  can  he 
imagine  what  mysterious,  moon-like  influence  lifts  the 
tidal  wave  of  human  endeavor  and  impels  it  to  swell 
and  recede  and  swell  again  on  every  nearest  and 
farthest  shore  of  the  world  we  inhabit. 

To  live  in  the  age  of  Grecian  Pericles,  or  that  of 
the  Italian  Renaissance,  or  of  the  English  Elizabethans, 
was  to  behold  a  far-reaching  wave  of  intellectual  achiev- 
ment  supreme  in  its  kind.  To  live  in  America  to-day 
and  note  the  marvels  of  mechanical  ingenuity  constantly 
appearing,  is  to  experience  a  great  and  maybe  superla- 
tive wave  of  another  kind.  Whether  or  not  there  now 
is  in  sweep,  or  else  in  formation  amidst  the  sea  of 
human  progress,  a  wave  in  some  ways  similar  to  those 


GENERAL   INTRODUCTION 

historic  ones  just  mentioned,  it  is  our  purpose  to 
inquire. 

That  the  surface  urge  behind  the  outer  and  gross 
expression  of  material  progress  is  allied  with  the  deeper 
ones  behind  spiritual  and  artistic  advancement  is  not 
likely.  Such  domineering  and  self-sufficient  Materialism 
would  gradually  crowd  from  the  world  the  spiritual  and 
the  purely  artistic.  Its  imperious  crest  would  quell  and 
humble  every  other. 

Fortunately,  Materialism  as  a  whole  has  its  wave 
limit  and  its  receding,  after  which  a  forward  movement 
of  another  kind  is  in  order.  Could  we  rise  to  the 
highest  outlook,  the  steady  alternation  of  the  spiritual 
and  the  inner  or  basic  material  probably  would  be  seen 
therefrom  as  the  preserver  of  balance  in  a  world  not  of 
angels,  but  of  mortals  compounded  of  fire  and  clay,  of 
soul  and  body. 

To  the  spectator  on  the  beach,  the  advance  and 
retreat  of  every  wave  is  obvious  enough,  but  to  mark 
such  occurrences  in  the  world  of  human  endeavor 
requires  keener  observation.  Usually  the  period  of 
subsidence  following  the  exhaustion  of  a  great  wave  of 
intellectual  effort  is  not  recognized  as  such  by  the  con- 
temporary observer.  In  fact,  he  is  prone  to  mistake 
falling  away  for  further  advance ;  thus  the  Alexandrian 
or  critical  period  succeeding  that  inspirational  age  which 
had  produced  the  Greek  dramatist,  was,  at  the  time, 


GENERAL   INTRODUCTION 

considered  superior  to  the  former.  In  the  intellectual 
firmament  Aristotle  was  the  new  orb  eclipsing  that  of 
Plato  and  darkening  with  the  shadow  of  doubt  the 
intuitions  of  the  great  Idealist,  and  so  preparing  the 
way  for  that  analytical  age  of  reason,  so-called,  which 
produced  the  skepticism,  the  decadence  of  Pyrrho. 

Who  can  doubt  that  the  refinements  of  Virgil  were 
in  his  day  generally  considered  an  advance  over 
the  bold  simplicity  of  Homer?  Nor  is  such  an  esti- 
mate surprising.  But,  aside  from  what  that  amounts 
to,  the  ^Eneid  contains  certain  excellencies  of  which 
both  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  are  devoid,  and  so  to 
that  extent  the  ^Eruid  stands  for  progress.  To  be 
explicit,  the  meagre  mentions  of  natural  beauty  scat- 
tered through  the  Homeric  poems  compare  unfavorably 
with  the  riches  of  description  abounding  in  the  Virgilian 
verse.  Evidently  the  Latin  poet  represented  a  wave 
of  intellectual  effort  differing  from  that  of  the  elder 
bard,  but,  all  things  considered,  perhaps  of  equal 
volume  and  reach. 

Despite  of  a  certain  reversion  to  the  Homeric  models, 
Virgil  was  an  innovator.  Now,  when  seen  at  close 
range,  often  the  output  of  some  great  innovator  seems 
to  render  null  and  void  the  work  of  all  his  predeces- 
sors, but,  afterward,  in  the  mature  and  just  esteem  of 
the  world,  he  is  recognized  only  as  the  revealer  of 
truth  seen  from  a  new  angle. 


GENERAL   INTRODUCTION 

It  were  folly  to  argue  that  the  rise  of  mankind  from 
mere  savagery  has  not  been  along  all  lines,  but  it  were 
equally  unwise  to  contend  that  every  departure  from 
the  conventional  and  time-honored  is  progress.  Such 
departure  may  be  an  actual  turning  back,  though  not 
at  the  time  so  recognized,  for  to  see  with  the  eye  of  the 
future  is  sight  indeed. 

That  the  present  era  is  one  of  departure  from  con- 
vention is  obvious  enough,  but,  for  the  race,  this  depar- 
ture may  mean  decadence,  or  it  may  signify  a  period  of 
gestation  already  advanced  to  the  throes  of  a  new  birth, 
and  the  bringing  forth  of  a  humanity  the  heir  of  the 
ages,  a  humanity  wiser  and  better  because  of  the 
blunders  and  shortcomings  of  countless  ancestors. 

Examination  of  this  larger  matter  being  aside  from 
our  purpose,  we  would  undertake  the  lesser  problem 
indicated  by  the  departures  from  the  olden  lately 
occurring  in  the  arts  of  painting,  poetry,  and  music, 
those  sister  arts  sourced  in  some  parent  stem,  some 
underlying  unity,  as  evidenced  by  their  almost  equal 
sensitiveness  to  the  dynamic  forces  beneath  the  total 
of  modern  world  happenings. 

It  was  an  ancient  belief,  one  walled  and  buttressed 
by  a  great  and  profound  philosophy,  that  Sound,  Color, 
and  Form,  in  their  original  manifestation,  were  the 
powers  that  brought  the  earth  into  being  and  orbed 
and  kindled  the  stars  above  it.  Sound  was  the  first 


GENERAL    INTRODUCTION 

vibration  stirring  amidst  the  dead  darkness  of  ancient 
night.  Color  was  the  fire,  and  Form  was  the  shaping 
influence  perfecting  that  divine  Archetype,  the  self- 
luminous  Sphere.  Sound,  Color,  and  Form  were  the 
original  Trinity,  in  fact  the  primeval,  Creative  Word 
of  God. 

Dealing  with  Painting,  Poetry  and  Music,  we  shall 
keep  well  in  mind  this  exposition  of  their  remote 
origin.  In  Music,  sound  is  predominant,  with  form 
subordinate  and  also  color,  but,  being  vibration,  color 
is  sound  had  we  but  the  ears  for  it.  In  Painting,  sound 
cannot  of  course  be  considered  since  it  is  unapprehen- 
sible  as  such,  but  color,  or  else  form,  holds  first  or 
second  place  according  to  the  viewpoint  of  the  artist. 
In  Poetry,  we  have  first  language,  seemingly  a  new 
element,  but  language  is  only  sound  shaped  by  form  to 
vowels  and  consonants  and  then  by  it  arranged  as 
words  which  convey  ideas  to  the  mind.  As  Poetry 
demands  the  perfection  of  word  painting,  the  poet 
should  in  some  degree  acquire  the  artist's  eye,  so  that 
his  language  may  have  the  effect  of  pigments.  In 
Poetry,  we  shall  give  to  form  a  secondary  place,  perhaps 
disputed  by  those  who  think  too  highly  of  the  conven- 
tional shapes  into  which  the  art  has  slowly  crystallized. 

Putting  aside  for  the  moment  the  various  schools  of 
Painting  peculiar  to  modern  times,  we  can  broadly 
divide  painters  into  two  classes,  those  who  copy  more 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

or  less  mechanically  the  outward  face  of  nature,  or  of 
man,  and  those  who  pierce  deeper.  As  the  prism 
divides  the  white  sunlight  into  the  seven  spectrum  colors, 
so  the  prism  of  the  human  mind  can  divide  the  world 
and  man  each  into  seven  components.  This  uncover- 
ing of  the  world  is  not  like  that  performed  by  the  pick 
and  the  shovel,  for,  to  the  prism  of  the  mind,  the  coarse 
strata  of  the  world  is  but  another  aspect  of  the  material. 

According  to  the  genius  of  the  artist,  the  landscape 
within  the  landscape  is  revealed  till  the  inmost  and 
basic  reality  is  approached.  So,  seeking  the  inmost  of 
man,  the  portrayer  of  the  human  face  can,  according  to 
his  genius,  throw  upon  it  the  hidden  light  of  the  soul. 

The  basic  reality  existant  both  in  nature  and  man  is 
"The  Thing  in  Itself"  which  Kant  would  have  unat- 
tainable by  human  intelligence.  However,  certain 
other  philosophers  have  been  more  sanguine.  Human 
mind  is  progressive,  both  in  reason  and  intuition,  and 
to  it  the  seemingly  unknowable  exists  as  a  constant 
challenge  and  stimulus.  Let  us  then  beware  of  setting 
bounds  to  man's  possibilities,  or,  what  is  more  in  line 
with  our  present  inquiry,  let  us  not  doubt  that  the  artist 
of  the  subjective  will  yet  reach  his  utmost  quest. 


:/"' 


MODERN  PAINTING 


MODERN    PAINTING 


IN  examining  the  ideals  and  tendencies  of  modern 
painting,  we  shall  look  first  to  the  French,  that 
versatile  and  impressionable  people,  perhaps  keener 
than  any  other  to  feel  the  subtle  influences  manifest- 
ing of  late  in  divers  modes  of  artistic  expression. 

Because  of  its  reversion  to  the  Greco- Roman,  as  well 
as  the  Italian  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  cen- 
turies, a  severe  and  sculpturesque  school  of  painting 
obtained  in  Europe,  especially  in  France,  during  the 
latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  and  the  early  part  of  the 
nineteenth  centuries.  Opposing  this  school  were  the 
methods  of  the  Dutch  masters,"  whose  art  had  developed 
through  contact  with  the  soil  even  as  had  the  sturdy 
bodies  which  it  loved  to  depict,  idealized  only  by 
their  enveloping  light  against  a  background  of  shadows. 
This  art  availed  little  outside  of  England,  whereas, 
under  the  leadership  ofJDavid,  and  later  of  Ing£fi§»  the 
French  painters  made  composition  and  draughtmanship 
their  chief  requisites  and,  in  a  desire  for  correctness 
and  Greek  symmetry,  they  gave  to  the  human  form  a 
stiffness  as  of  statuary.  This  is  evidenced  by  David's 
"Oath  of  the  Horatii,"  the  " Death  of  Socrates," 
"  Belisarius,"  "  Rape  of  the  Sabines,"  and  other  works 

ii 


which  earned  for  him  an  immense  reputation  and  the 
admiration  of  Royalty  itself. 

Now  because,  from  viewpoints  more  and  more  interior, 
the  word  form  signifies  that  which  deeper  and  deeper 
underlies  the  objective  phase  of  form,  it  is  evident  that, 
in  the  progress  of  art,  a  school  of  painting,  having  for 
ideal  the  mere  dead  externals  of  form,  should  be  suc- 
ceeded by  a  school  having  in  view  a  more  subjective,  a 
freer,  a  vitalized  and  more  truthful  phase  of  form,  one 
which,  eschewing  the  stilted,  would  express  the  human 
face  and  figure  when  influenced  by  the  various 
emotions.  So,  through  Gerard  and  others,  we  see  the 
advent  of  Romanticism,  the  school  at  the  beginning 
and  head  of  which  Delacroix,  with  his  "Dante  and 
Virgil"  and  his  "Massacre  in  Scio"  —  repainted  in  the 
manner  of  Constable  —  at  once  placed  himself.  Thus 
an  effectual  and  permanent  protest  against  the  methods 
of  David  and  the  lesser  lights  of  Classicisms  was  begun 
by  a  school  less  trammeled  than  the  other,  a  school 
discarding,  for  warm  color  and  its  dramatic  possibilities, 
the  dry  and  cold — the  earth  colors — of  its  prede- 
cessor, but  still  a  school  with  the  human  form  and  face 
as  the  central  interest;  moreover,  a  school  in  which 
rhythm  and  linear  balance,  sometime  lost  to  French 
painting,  again  appeared.  Since  the  days  of  Homer,  the 
love  of  Nature,  apart  from  the  interest  excited  by  histor- 
ical associations  with  certain  scenes,  has  been  of  slow 

12 


MODERN'  PAINTING 

growth.  Only  in  modern  times  has  appreciation  of 
natural  objects  existed  in  any  save  the  few.  Even  the 
painters  of  the  modern  classical  school  had  apologized 
for  Nature  by  dressing  her  up  as  for  some  occasion. 

As  evidenced  by  the  school  of  Fontainehleftu,  through 
such  a  representative  as  Corot — one  of  the  first  to 
reject,  at  least  in  part,  thosTlnheritances  of  Poussain 
and  Claude  the  supposedly  noble  and  fit  in  land- 
scape —  and  also  through  MUJet^  who  beneath  the 
homely  discerned  the  beautiful,  and  in  the  simple  and 
seemingly  trivial  discovered  the  sublime,  the  time  had 
now  come  when  the  painter  could  find  outside  of  man 
the  impulse  essential  to  his  work.  Still  this  impulse 
was  not  as  yet  sourced  wholly  in  the  landscape, 
even  when  stripped  by  Corot  of  the  disquieting  and 
filled  by  him  with  the  charm  of  ideal  summer  scenery. 
Nor  was  the  landscape  all,  though  seen  by  artists  free- 
ing themselves  from  the  absurd  restraints  which  out- 
worn convention  had  hitherto  opposed.  While  finding 
whatsoever  Nature  sets  before  the  eye  to  be  suitable 
for  the  painter ;  that,  for  instance,  the  hut-crowned  hill 
is  as  inspiring  as  if  surmounted  by  a  ruined  Grecian  or 
Roman  temple  after  the  fashion  of  Claude,  and  that 
willows  and  birches  are  as  worthy  of  the  brush  as  are 
oaks  and  palms,  and  that  rivers  are  as  picturesque  as 
streams  and  brooks,  and  peasants  as  presentable  as 
shepherds  and  nymphs  and  fauns  and  the  other  acces- 


MODERN  PAINTING 

series  of  classical  scenery,  this  school  nevertheless 
deemed  animal  life,  and  also  man,  to  be  essential  to  the 
picture. 

Next  the  landscape  pure  and  simple,  aye,  for  itself 
alone  that  enigma,  that  elusive  face  of  infinite  nature 
which  perhaps  the  English  painter  Constable  and  then 
Corot,  the  "poet  painter,"  were  earliest  to  see  with 
something  of  the  new  vision !  And  this  landscape  was 
to  awaken  in  the  modern  painter  a  sense  of  mystery 
vast  and  deep  and  inclusive  as  the  world  itself.  How 
should  he  interpret,  how  fix  for  other  eyes  some  phase 
of  mystery  that  a  hovering  shade,  or  a  shaft  from  the 
riven  clouds,  had  revealed  on  forest,  on  mountain,  on 
valley  and  plain?  How  should  he  fitly  transfer  to 
canvas  what  the  changing  seasons  were  bringing  to  all 
within  the  circle  of  his  vision?  The  lowering,  the 
breaking,  the  passing  storm  leaving  in  its  wake  the 
leaping  torrent,  the  swollen  river,  the  lifted  ocean! 
How  should  he  in  miniature  indicate  those?  How 
worthily  make  stable  the  delicate  tints  of  daybreak,  or 
the  lifting  mists  upon  the  morning's  shrouded  face? 
How  paint  effectively  the  sun's  red  setting,  or  the 
crimson  afterglow  that  pales  to  orange  and  to  violet 
ere  yet  the  Night,  her  brush  dipped  deep  in  fire,  has 
touched  the  blue  expanse  with  myriad  points  of  flame  ? 

This,  and  more,  we  deem  the  problem  which,  con- 
fronting the  modern  painter,  has  eventuated  in  schools 

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MODERN  PAINTING 

and  cults.  This  search  for  the  ide^l  is  to  some  extent 
beneath  every  phase  of  that  RejjJisjn  which,  as  one 
aspect  o£  the  revolt  from  CJassicjsm,  soon  succeeded 
Romanticism  and  is  its  one  excuse  for  being. 

Having  in  mind  our  definition  of  form  as  that  which, 
further  and  further  from  the  surface,  more  and  more 
shapes  the  world  to  the  Divine  Likeness,  or  Archetype, 
we  must  consider  the  Realism  peculiar  to  the  school  in 
which  Courbet — that  sometime  follower  but  final  repu- 
diator  of  bavrtl — is  prominent,  as  theoretically,  at  least, 
to  be  a  shrinking  back,  a  recession  of  the  wave  of 
progress,  though  not  necessarily  the  turn  of  the  tide  of 
total  advance. 

Furthermore,  we  deem  the  word  realism,  as  here 
used,  to  be  misleading  since  the  reality  of  Nature  and 
her  true  color  scheme  are  not  discoverable  by  physical 
sight,  however  keen  through  cultivation;  neither  is 
Nature  reproduced  through  photographic  attention  to 
detail.  The  history  of  French  Realism  proves  it  to 
have  been  opposed  to  things  either  literary  or  symbolic, 
and,  in  fact,  to  have  been  an  anti-intellectual  movement 
wherein  the  coarse,  the  lascivious,  the  bald,  the  petty, 
the  commonplace,  and  even  the  repulsive,  were  certain 
of  the  pitfalls  imperiling  the  path  of  its  votaries.  Still, 
at  its  worst,  French  Realism  had  its  office  in  that  it 
helped  to  turn  the  eye  of  the  painter  from  the  antique 
to  contemporary  life,  and  from  the  petty  and  the  pretty, 


MODERN  PAINTING 

and  the  stilted  and  the  theatrical,  to  the  natural. 
Besides  it  taught  him  to  avoid  sentimentality,  false 
idealism,  and  the  glossing  over  of  what  is  not  beauty. 

While  in  Courbet,  Realism  had  for  its  inception  an 
artist  of  peculiar  limitations  as  a  colorist  and  otherwise, 
it  had  also  one  of  almost  retrieving  qualities  as  exempli- 
fied, for  instance,  in  his  handling  of  rhythmic  line,  the 
absence  of  which  is  obvious  in  Millet.  Largely  self- 
taught,  not  from  lack  of  means  and  opportunity,  but 
from  intense  though  narrow  convictions,  coupled  with 
an  obstinate  self-esteem  which  to  him  made  his  very 
defects  appear  like  excellencies,  Courbet  had  turned 
with  contempt  from  teachers  whose  pupils  were  perpe- 
trating the  sentimental  and  inane. 

Courbet  the  realist  was  in  no  way  of  the  Millet  type 
of  French  peasant,  but  rather  that  antithesis  which 
the  scalpel  of  Zola  has  dissected  so  unmercifully. 
Without  that  imagination,  thought,  and  poetic  fervor, 
which  had  lifted  Millet  above  his  birth  and  over  those 
of  Barbizon  to  whom,  nevertheless,  he  was  held  by 
love's  unbreakable  bond,  Courbet  had  chosen  Paris  as 
his  ideal,  though  quite  incapable  of  conforming  to  its 
polite  requirements. 

It  may  be  said  of  Courbet  that  an  insatiable  craving 
for  prominence — whether  attained  through  art,  or  mere 
personal  eccentricity,  or  some  offence  against  custom  — 
together  with  an  unflagging  determination  to  be  the 

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MODERN  PAINTING 

center  of  a  worshipping  circle,  was  the  mainspring  of 
his  life  and  the  energy  behind  his  enormous  output 
of  canvases  wherein  little  sense  of  movement  was 
attained,  and  whose  technique  was  their  chief  excellence, 
and  in  which  the  camera  had  its  forerunner.  It 
should  not  be  supposed  that  the  Apostle  of  Realism 
could  rise  to  any  lofty  aim,  or,  like  Millet,  await  with 
patience  the  sure  yield  of  future  years,  for  Realism  is 
of  the  soil  and,  with  earthward  look  and  impatient 
voice,  it  demands  a  speedy  harvest. 

Because  a  phase  of  materiality,  the  absolute  Realism 
of  Courbet  afforded  no  goal  for  an  art  destined  to 
depart  more  and  more  from  the  depicting  of  form  as 
recognized  by  the  eye.  The  first  painter  to  make 
noticeable  this  peculiar  modern  tendency  was  Daumjer 
whose  early  work  as  a  caricaturist  had  prepared  him 
for  the  innovation.  It  was  the  misfortune  of  the 
caricaturist — turned  from  his  vocation  through  politi- 
cal reasons  —  that  the  serious  output  of  his  mature 
years  should  be  regarded  by  many  as  only  another 
phase  of  his  youthful  efforts. 

Daumier  was  not  a  coloristj  a  successor  of  Delacroix ; 
indeed  his  art  was  a  reaction  against  the  prettiness  to 
which  contemporary  use  of  color  had  come.  Never- 
theless, by  constructing  his  figures  first  in  tone,  and 
then  causing  his  drawing  to  incorporate  and  unify  both 
form  and  shading,  he  discovered  a  means  of  increasing 

17 


MODERN  PAINTING 

volume.  Now  while  this  procedure  was  not  in  accord 
with  that  of  Michelangelo  in  his  emphasis  of  certain 
parts  of  the  human  form,  still  the  influence  of  the  great 
Italian  is  felt  in  Daumier's  volumes.  Moreover,  the 
light  and  shadow  of  Rembrandt  were  fraught  with  sug- 
gestion to  one  who  actually  copied  neither  master. 

Another  phase  of  an  art  impelled  toward  the  sub- 
jective through  contact  with  others  moving  in  like 
direction,  is  found  in  the  essentially  decorative,  two- 
dimensional  art  of  Impressionism ;  that  foreshadowed  by 
Manet.  This  painter,  who  had  revolted  from  academic 
exactness,  was  the  first  to  attempt  economy  and 
simplicity  by  obscuring  details.  In  him  we  see  the 
influence  of  Courbet  to  the  extent  that  his  subjects 
were  chiefly  those  tabooed  by  the  inheritors  of  the 
Davidian  formulas  which  regarded  the  dignified  and 
the  noble  as  alone  fit  for  the  canvas.  On  the  other 
hand,  Manet's  art  was  not  realistic  in  at  least  this, 
that  anticipating  modern  methods  it  treated  its  subjects 
aesthetically  rather  than  pictorially. 

As  an  imaginative  painter,  Manet  found  his  means  of 
expression  neither  in  the  soil,  nor  in  things  related 
thereto,  but  in  the  sky,  or,  more  precisely,  in  light  and 
atmosphere.  With  these  he  gave  to  objects  nearby, 
or  in  the  middle  distance,  or  afar  off,  those  correct 
values  which  before  his  day  were  either  unnoticed,  or 
else  ignored. 

18 


MODERN  PAINTING 

Manet  has  said:  "The  principal  person  in  a  picture 
is  trTe~light."  Now  it  Is  complained  that,  in  his  over- 
attention  to  atmospheres,  Manet  never  modeled  to  any- 
thing like  roundness,  and  so  his  figures  seem  flat  and 
the  general  impression  is  that  of  flatness,  a  defect 
common  to  his  school.  Besides  it  should  be  noted 
that,  whereas  ideas  are  permanent,  pigments  fade  and 
with  that  fading  Us  values  and  la  tache — those 
excellencies  obtained  by  obliterating  half-tones  and 
obscuring  details — will  have  disappeared,  thus  making 
prophetic  the  words  of  that  real  Impressionist  Monet, 
he  whose  style  had  been  greatly  influenced  by  Turner's 
Rain,  Steam  and  Speed  and  his  ice  and  snow  effects 
and  those  of  sunlight  and  mist:  "Perhaps  I  sacrifice 
too  much  to  lightness  and  brightness,  but  these  are 
essentials  of  the  landscape." 

The  la  tache  of  Impressionism  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  microscopic  attention  to  detail  of  the  genre  painter 
Meissonier  on  the  other,  show  what  a  gulf  can  sepa- 
rate artists  of  one  nation  and  time.  Because  when 
not  black  from  absorption  of  all  sunlight,  any  natural 
object  refracts  at  least  one  of  the  seven  spectrum 
colors,  and  because  when  more  than  one  are  refracted, 
their  juxtaposition  changes  them  to  a  variation  of  the 
colors  refracted,  and  because  the  hues  of  surrounding 
objects  modify  that  variation  and  are  in  turn  modified 
by  it,  Impressionism,  as  illustrated  by  Monet  after  he 

19 


MODERN  PAINTING 

had  gathered  hints  from  the  Turner  paintings,  attempts 
the  method  of  the  sunlight. 

The  artist  of  this  school  employs  only  the  seven 
pure  spectrum  colors  and,  at  times,  white  and  black. 
These  he  arranges  in  such  juxtaposition  that,  seen 
from  the  proper  angle  and  distance,  they  produce  to 
the  eye  the  chromatic  tints  of  the  external  world,  from 
dazzling  white  to  deepest  shadow.  Moreover,  to  be 
faithful  to  nature,  the  Impressionist  seizes  upon  some 
hour  of  the  sun's  progress  under  skies  cloudy  or  other- 
wise, and  imitates  the  colors  which  the  sun  as  painter 
then  spreads  upon  the  landscape. 

Impressionism,  as  exemplified  by  Monet,  owes  much 
to  Japanese  art,  itself  impressionistic  and  eminently 
suggestive  while  showing  no  trace  of  the  Western 
schools.  Native  critics  claim  that  the  false  perspective 
and  extravagant  character  of  Japanese  painting,  as 
indicated  by  Utamaro  and  continued  by  Toyokuni  and 
culminating  in  Yeizan,  all  of  whom  have  influenced 
modern  French  painting,  is  a  decadence  originating  in 
crude  efforts  to  reproduce  poor  prints  of  European 
pictures,  especially  those  of  the  Dutch  school.  But 
the  real  Impressionist  of  Japan  was  not  one  of  these, 
nor  was  he  the  prolific  Hokusai,  familiar  to  the  Western 
world  through  his  book  illustrations,  but,  in  fact, 
Hiroshige  whose  atmospheres  antedated  those  of  Manet. 
In  this  connection  let  us  add  that  Monet's  idea  of 


20 


MODERN  PAINTING 

painting  a  single  haystack  in  differing  atmospheres 
was  derived  from  the  Japanese. 

Of  Monet  it  has  been  well  said  that,  while  as  regards 
particulars  he  ignored  the  face  of  nature,  he  secured  a 
desired  general  effect  by  painting  it,  even  as  did  Manet, 
as  if  seen  through  eyes  but  half  open.  As  result, 
its  parts  were  emphasized  by  the  blending  of  details 
in  clusters  of  light  and  shade.  Thus,  it  is  claimed, 
the  resulting  ensemble  gives  an  impression  of  truth 
more  adequate  than  by  any  other  means.  Impres- 
sionistic chiaroscuro,  as  exemplified  by  Manet,  Monet, 
and  Pissarro,  differs  to  some  extent  from  that  of  former 
schools  and  radically  from  that  of  the  Dutch  masters, 
since  its  lights  are  not  concentrated  on  the  central 
subject,  but  are  distributed  somewhat  evenly  over  the 
entire  grouping. 

As  exemplified  by  the  three  masters  above  men- 
tioned, Impressionism,  while  anti-intellectual,  is  also  a 
total  severance  from  outworn  traditions  of  color,  form, 
and  value,  and  in  fact  it  terminated  an  inadequate 
past.  To  the  cult,  this  breaking  away  meant  progress 
along  all  lines.  Nevertheless,  Impressionism  must  be 
considered  chiefly  as  the  experiment  of  those  who, 
though  never  achieving  form  and  linear  rhythm,  yet 
cleared  away  much  rubbish  of  convention,  while  stand- 
ing on  the  shifting  line  between  the  old  truth  and  the 
larger  yet  to  be. 

21 


MODERN  PAINTING 

In  certain  of  its  tendencies,  Impressionism  easily 
lends  itself  to  mere  exaggeration  and  so  becomes   a 
retrograde  art.     Now  when  employed  by  a  master,  and 
therefore  judiciously,  exaggeration   heightens  expres- 
sion, but,  in  the  hands  of  the  incompetent,  it  is  a  clumsy 
tool  which  they  are  prone  to  use. 
^  Ignoring  the  underlying  and  stable  verities  of  nature, 
Ihe  Impressionist  is  enamored  of  the  outward  in  its 
/most  fleeting  appearance,  that  of  atmosphere,  for  the 
/landscape,  however  picturesque,  is  to  him  but  a  body 
[to  be  clothed  after  the   manner  of  his  school.     To 
I  center  attention  on  color  effects  he  distorts  outlines. 
I  Because  in  a  general  survey  the  eye  fails  to  grasp  the 
1  minutiae  of  nature,  and  even  its  correct  outlines,  he 
[indicates   objects,   especially   if  in   motion,   by  mere 
J splashes  of  color.    If  an  extremist,  he  utterly  disregards 
detail  so  that,  aside  from   atmosphere,  the  result  is 
something  unseen  in  nature  save  through  the  eyes  of 
one  who  yet  prides  himself  on  painting  in  the  open, 
rather  than  from  memory  in  the  studio.     As  a  school, 
though  by  no  means  as  an  influence,  Impressionism  is 
fast  disappearing  from  the  land  of  its  birth. 
*  So  enamored  were  the  Impressionists  of  their  dis- 
coveries in  respect  to  light  and  atmosphere,  that,  as 
already  said,  they  overlooked,  or  sacrificed  to  these, 
Doth  form  and  linear  rhythm.     Thus  resulted  an  art 
palpably  one-sided,  but  which  some  progressive  genius 

22 


MODERN  PAINTING 

would  yet  strive  to   make  symmetrical.     After 
trials,  this  difficult  task  was  accomplished  by  Renoii 
who  from  Impressionism  had  grown  into  a  larger  view. 
Linear  rhythm  he   had   acquired  from    Courbet   an< 
Delacroix,   but   only   in   later   years    did    he    wholly 
triumph  over  the  rigid  and  angular.     Form  he   ulti- 
mately achieved   through   an    arbitrary  dispersion   of  i 
light  which  caused  it  to  fall  as  points  and  spots  on  the 
prominent   parts   of    his   figures    and    other    object^ 
Moreover,  it  was  he  who,  though  beginning  with  th< 
use   of   black,    so   prominent  in   Courbet,   afterwards 
well-nigh  discarded  it,  and  so  liberated  future  painters 
from  its  traditional  use  in  creating  volumes  and  solidity 
which  now  can  be  produced  with  pure  color.     Renoir, 
the  consummation  of  Impressionism,  deserves   much 
more  than  passing  notice,  for  he  had  assimilated  the 
teachings  of  many  schools  and  in  him  even  the  art  of 
the  far  East  is  represented. 

An  artist  at  first  influenced  by  Courbet  and  Dela- 
croix, but  afterward  delving  deeper  into  the  problem 
of  color  than  did  Monet,  Renoir,  and  Pissarro,  was 
Cezanne.  Observing  carefully  the  color  gradations 
undergone  by  objects  when  curving  away  from  the 
direct  sunlight,  he  reproduced  their  descent  from 
warm  to  cold,  for  instance,  from  yellow  to  blue,  while 
at  the  same  time  he  modified  that  descending  scale  by 
allowing  for  the  effect  of  local  color  thereon.  As 

23 


MODERN  PAINTING 

f  esult,  the  objects  in  his  pictures  preserve  their  relativity 
in  whatsoever  light  they  are  viewed. 

While  Manet  and  his  school  had  represented  nature 
'in  its  ephemeral  appearances,  and  without  solidity  and 
depth,  Cezanne's  imitation  of  the  behavior  of  natural 
light  in  chromatic  descent  on  a  curving  surface,  was 
virtually  the  creation  of  form  plus  the  other  two 
desirable  qualities  absent  from  Impressionistic  art. 
Moreover,  he  conveyed  the  idea  of  solidity  without 
sacrificing  mobility.  Daumier  had  conceived  drawing 
and  chiaroscuro  simultaneously,  but  Ce'zanne  was  the 
first  painter  to  make  form,  chiaroscuro,  and  color 
identical,  even  as  united  in  Nature  these  appear  to  the 
eye. 

Comparing  Cezanne's  best  work  with  that  of  the 
masters  of  the  old  schools,  one  discovers  that  with 
them  drawing  was  the  chief  end  and  color  but  an 
ornament,  or  else  an  intensifier  of  dramatic  expression. 
Comparing  Cezanne  with  Renoir,  we  find  that  whereas 
the  latter  completed  and  in  a  way  separated  each  part 
of  a  picture,  the  other  subordinated  parts  to  the  whole. 
Moreover,  these  parts  are  interrelated,  and  are  treated 
by  a  method  analagous  to  that  applied  to  the  subject 
and  counter-subject  of  a  fugue.  Adverse  critics  con- 
tend that  Cezanne's  distortion  of  figures  was  due  to  poor 
eyesight,  but  his  adherents  claim  this  distortion  to  be 
deliberate  and  for  the  sake  of  increasing  his  volumes. 

24 


MODERN  PAINTING 

As  a  landscape  painter,  Ce'zanne  never  attempted 
exactness ;  the  subjective  in  nature  was  what  he  strove 
for.  Though  bringing  the  manipulation  of  light  to 
its  logical  conclusion,  this  painter  was  essentially  a 
delver,  a  discoverer,  and  experimenter,  one  bequeathing 
to  art  what  would  be  invaluable  to  painters  of  a  future 
day.  Indeed,  it  is  claimed  that  all  would-be  progressive 
painting  is  traceable  to  him,  or  else  it  is  sourced  in  that 
return  to  the  primitive  toward  which  the  Point- Aven 
school  led  the  way.  As  for  Ce'zanne,  he  failed  to 
"realize,"  that  is  to  say,  he  never  gained  absolute 
fluency  in  manipulating  the  vast  materials  which  his 
deep  investigations  had  revealed  to  him.  And  yet  no 
painter  has  attained  more  poise  in  the  three  dimensions. 
Alter  any  portion,  however  small,  and  the  whole  of  a 
Cezanne  picture  must  be  conformed  to  the  change. 

The  Pointillists,  or,  more  precisely,  the  Neo-Impre.s- 
sionists,  whose  representatives  were  Seurat  and  Signac, 
thought  fit  to  emphasize  the  chief  end  of  Impressionism 
without  offering,  as  had  Renoir  and  Cezanne,  a  remedy 
for  its  deficiencies  in  respect  to  form  and  depth.  Since 
this  emphasis  was  in  effect  but  over-emphasis,  we  must 
regard  the  movement  as  unprogressive  and  even  deca- 
dent, and  its  output  as  of  only  passing  interest.  The 
Impressionists  saw  nature  as  a  series  of  plains  vibrant 
with  light.  To  imitate  this  light  their  surfaces,  limited 
to  spectrum  colors,  consisted  of  minute  round  spots 

25 


MODERN  PAINTING 

each  absorbing  or  reflecting  color  to  a  degree  peculiar 
to  itself.  Of  these  spots,  or  points,  the  most  luminous 
may  be  likened  to  a  musical  theme  and  the  others  to 
its  variations.  As  for  the  Pointillists,  they  saw  nature 
as  a  maze  of  colored  spots. 

Hence  their  spotty  painting,  every  spot  almost  square 
and  usually  too  large  for  good  results.  Each  spot  was 
opposed  to  the  next  according  to  a  supposedly  scientific 
formula  of  complementary  colors  which  often  actually 
neutralized  each  other  and  so  produced  a  grey  effect. 
Between  the  spots,  whose  like  were  unseparated  in 
Impressionistic  surfaces,  were  white  bits  of  canvas  to 
brighten  the  total  effect.  Except  for  decorative  painting 
seen  at  a  distance,  the  result  was  not  happy  and  for 
reasons  too  technical  for  our  general  survey.  Suffice 
it  that  the  theories  of  color  held  by  these  painters  were 
derived  from  inaccurate  writers.  Then  again,  the  cult 
had  peculiar  notions  in  respect  to  the  emotions  caused 
by  straight  lines  at  different  angles,  and  they  even  des- 
ignated the  color  appropriate  to  each  line. 

Had  Seurat,  the  head  and  most  talented  member  of 
the  cult,  not  died  young,  he  might  have  modified  into 
something  valuable  to  progressive  art  the  Pointillism 
which  the  talented  but  erratic  Yan  Gogh  so  absurdly 
perverted  in  feverish  desire  for  quick  results.  Unfor- 
tunately for  the  cult,  the  Dutchman's  paintings  are 
usually  regarded  as  representative  of  their  style. 

26 


MODERN  PAINTING 

Pointillism  soon  reaching  that  extreme  where  reaction 
was  inevitable,  the  Post-Impressionistic  or  Point-Aven 
school  of  illustration  and  decoration  came  into  being 
with  Gauguin  —  the  painter  of  peaceful  tropical  scenes 
and  simple  savage  life  —  as  its  founder  and  head. 
The  spotty  work  of  the  Impressionists  and  their  direct 
successors,  from  whose  company  Gauguin  had  sepa- 
rated, was  now  discarded  for  gorgeous,  oriental  and 
barbaric  color  in  broad  plains  laid  on  with  unmixed 
pigments  and  with  a  stroke  learned  in  part  from 
Van  Gogh.  Thus  the  problem  of  light  was  thrust 
aside  that  a -sensuous  revel  in  color  might  take  its 
place. 

Soon,  by  his  immediate  circle  the  primitive  and  the 
decorative  in  Gauguin's  work  was  carried  to  the  absurd 
limit  of  resembling  the  untutored  attempts  of  aboriginal 
peoples  for,  like  Bergson,  the  following  held  that  evo- 
lution is  not  always  a  direct  onward  movement,  that  at 
times  it  should  revert  to  the  primitive  and  elemental 
there  to  gain  energy  for  a  more  vigorous  thrust  forward. 
In  opposition  to  the  divisionist  methods  of  the  Neo- 
Impressionists,  they,  as  "  Synthesists,"  used  absolute 
color  in  large,  flat  masses  even  as  the  Assyrian  and 
Egyptian  mural  decorators,  thus,  from  absence  ofjine 
opposition,  producing  a  too  static  effect.  Inasmuch  as 
the  cult  never  pondered  over  their  painting,  but,  like 
Van  Gogh,  worked  during  the  first  heat  of  enthusiasm, 

27 


MODERN  PAINTING 

their  merely  inspirational  efforts  often  degenerated  to 
the  crude  outlines  and  false  proportions,  in  fact  the 
childish  attempts,  of  the  cave  men.  Of  the  cult,  as  a 
whole,  it  may  be  said  that  desire  for  self-expression, 
when  little  or  no  self  exists,  leads  to  results  which 
excite  pity,  or  contempt,  or  mirth,  according  to  the 
temperament  of  the  observer. 

The  barbarian,  the  Chinese,  the  Japanese,  and  what 
not,  of  the  Gauguinians  having  rendered  an  indirect 
service  to  progressive  art  by  effecting  a  break  from 
Impressionism,  and  the  too  coldly  scientific  Neo- 
Impressionism,  painters  were  now  impelled  to  look  in 
any  direction  for  that  inspiration  which  Matisse — -^as^a 
colorist  the  continuation  of  Gauguin  —  believed  he 
had  found  in  Arabic  and  Moorish  art.  Influenced  to 
some  extent  by  the  Spanish  painter  Goya,  Matisse,  by 
distinction  the  head  of  the  Post-Impressionist  move- 
ment, deliberately  distorted  form,  including  the  human 
figure.  This  to  express  some  peculiar  idea,  or  for 
mere  novelty  —  a  reason  derived  from  his  study  of 
Goya  —  or  else  to  increase  volume  as  did  Daumier 
before  him,  or,  as  in  a  less  pronounced  way,  Michel- 
angelo had  done  in  his  time.  Nevertheless,  Matisse's 
figures  are  more  subtle,  and  generally  superior  to  the 
flat  and  wooden  of  Gauguin. 

Matisse,  who  like  Gauguin  has  been  called  the  wild 
man,  was  an  iconoclast  willing  to  strip  himself  of  every 

28 


MODERN  PAINTING 

idea  derived  whether  from  education  or  observation. 
In  the  interest  of  what  he  deemed  real  art,  he  would 
burn  all  existing  galleries  of  art.  To  his  view,  tech- 
nique was  an  artificiality,  a  hindrance  rather  than  a 
help.  He  believed  that  the  conventions  of  civilization 
have  reacted  unfavorably  on  the  painter,  so  that  no 
longer  he  sees  nature  as  it  should  be  seen  by  man,  and 
as  it  still  is  seen  by  the  child  who  with  open  eyes  gazes 
wonderingly  around.  Though  wholly  sophisticated,  as 
evidenced  by  his  philosophizing,  he  would  gain  the 
virgin  mind,  the  lost  estate  of  childhood  and  of  the 
infant  race.  Now,  in  the  nature  of  things,  this  cannot 
occur ;  if  childishness  be  expressed  by  such  a  man,  it 
will  prove  the  childishness  of  senile  decay  that  ever 
approaches  imbecility. 

Matisse  had  examined  the  rude  wood  carvings  of 
the  Africans  and  the  sculptures  of  both  the  South  Sea 
Islanders  and  the  Central  and  South  American  Indians, 
and,  in  their  naive  attempts  at  symmetry,  he  fancied 
an  excuse  for  his  own  distortions  of  the  human  form, 
which  Giotto  drew  so  precisely.  Eventually,  the  defi- 
ciencies of  Matisse  were  accentuated  by  imitators 
devoid  of  his  saving  qualities,  and  so  a  quick  deca- 
dence ensued.  However,  the  real  Matisse  cannot  be 
estimated  aside  from  the  influence  which  the  delicate 
but  flat  paintings  of  the  ancient  Persians  exercised 
upon  his  art.  As  a  colorist,  Matisse  had  experimented 

29 


MODERN  PAINTING 

with  Divisionist  methods.  Repudiating  these,  he  tend- 
ered toward  both  exaggeration  of  color  and  bizarre 
effects.  Still,  his  colors  were  as  well-poised  as  those  of 
any  predecessor  and  their  use  indicated  deep  reflection, 
a  quality  absent  from  the  daubs  of  the  Point- Aven  cult. 

Painters  from  Manet  to  Matisse  having  supposedly 
explored  every  mystery  of  color,  nothing  new  in  this 
department  seemed  to  remain.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
over-emphasis  and  even  distortion  of  form  instigated 
by  Daumier,  and  quite  noticeable  in  Cezanne,  and 
increasingly  so  in  Gauguin  and  Matisse,  discovered 
possibilities  for  an  art  tending  from  the  purely  objective 
to  the  purely  subjective  wherein  form,  as  seen  in  the 
world,  would  no  longer  be  presented. 

In  their  attempts  to  enlarge  volume,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  impart  an  idea  of  subjectivity,  the  Cubists,  of 
whom  Picasso  is  acknowledged  leader,  employ  eccentric 
methods.  A  figure  having  been  blocked  out  and  drawn 
in,  if  the  whole  be  cut  into  squares,  parallelograms, 
and  triangles,  and  then  arranged  in  an  arbitrary  way 
allowing  certain  pieces  to  overlap  and  so  partially 
obscure  others,  results  very  like  Cubism  are  obtained. 

By  this  arrangement,  or  rather  disarrangement,  and 
also  by  certain  other  means,  yet  to  be  explained,  the 
Cubist  greatly  augments  volume  and  also  would  convey 
to  other  minds  what  the  outward  symbolizes  to  his 
inner  artistic  consciousness.  While  the  adherents  of 

30 


MODERN  PAINTING 

Gauguin  found  grace  in  the  flow  of  the  rhythmic  line 
common  to  certain  phases  of  primitive  art ;  the  Cubists 
find  strength  in  angles  to  which,  in  way  of  contrast, 
they  oppose  a  few  curves. 

Now  mere  disarranging  of  objects  of  course  fails  to 
suggest  the  subjective.  Besides,  the  little  of  rhythm 
discoverable  in  Matisse  having  been  done  away  with 
by  the  Cubists,  their  rigid  geometrical  figures  and 
angles,  their  absence  of  color,  their  formal  planes,  their 
primitive  bas-relief  effects,  and  their  inevitable  lack  of 
poise,  suggest  only  the  static  and  material. 

To  understand  better  the  Cubist's  aims,  we  should 
know  his  doctrine  of  "  simultaneity,"  some  idea  of  which 
had  occurred  to  Delacroix.  This  doctrine  may  be 
epitomized  thus  :  Haying. seen  an  object  from  different 
angles,  if  one  form  a  mental  picture  of  it,  his  mind 
refuses  to  restrict  itself  to  a  single  view  and  exclude 
the  others ;  in  fact,  to  mental  vision  every  view  of  an 
object  usually  appears  simultaneously.  Cubism  would 
not  reproduce  such  a  composite  picture,  but  would 
convey  an  idea  derived  from  it.  Now,  since  neither 
disarrangement  of  the  model,  nor  "simultaneity  "fully 
explains  Cubist  art,  something  of  the  doctrine  of  elim- 
ination —  not  new,  but  carried  to  an  extreme  —  is 
necessary  to  a  clear  comprehension  of  the  matter. 
When  in  a  more  and  more  marked  way  the  Impres- 
sionists and  their  successors  distorted  the  model,  they 


MODERN  PAINTING 

at  the  same  time  began  to  deem  accessories  unessential 
and  even  redundant.  Finally,  the  Cubists,  who  regarded 
form  merely  as  volume,  discovered  that,  by  disorgan- 
izing the  model,  it  could  be  made  to  fill  the  place  of 
these  accessories.  Evidently  the  application  of  this 
questionable  discovery  results  in  synthesis  through  the 
completion  of  elimination.  Another  matter  demanding 
notice  is  that  the  Cubist  is  free  to  ignore  aerial  and 
linear  perspective  in  favor  of  mental  perspective. 
When  the  latter  is  employed,  the  unimportant,  though 
in  the  foreground,  is  made  little,  whereas,  however 
small  and  wheresoever  placed,  the  important  is  made 
large  and  imposing. 

By  using  only  white,  brown,  and  grey,  in  their  reac- 
tion from  the  colorists,  the  original  Cubists  deprived 
themselves  of  a  powerful,  emotional  element;  hence 
their  work  should  be  judged  from  a  merely  intellectual 
viewpoint  from  which,  however,  it  is  evidently  one-sided. 
Awake  to  the  importance  of  color,  the  latest  following, 
known  as  the  Orphists,.  no  longer  restrict  themselves 
to  grey  and  white.  Brilliant  tints  are  now  introduced 
into  their  paintings. 

Before  passing  to  a  consideration  of  Futurism,  Vor- 
ticism,  and  Synchromism,  we  will  touch  upon  what  is 
known  as  the  Pre-Raphaelite  movement:  Despite  its 
name,  probably  suggested  by  the  German  movement, 
of  which  Cornelius  and  Overbeck  were  the  leaders, 

32 


MODERN  PAINTING 

Pre-Raphaelitism  was  not  mediaeval.  It  did  not  disap- 
prove of  Raphael's  work  in  the  main,  but  it  did  make 
issue  with  the  absence  of  thoroughness  —  elaboration 
of  detail  —  common  to  his  predecessors  and  the  deca- 
dence of  his  imitators  of  whom  it  should  be  said  that, 
when  forsaking  nature,  the  artist  takes  it  second  hand, 
though  from  a  master,  inevitably  he  acquires  much 
of  mere  mannerism  with  but  little  of  balancing 
excellence. 

Mere  mannerism  was  the  chief  fault  which  the  Pre- 
Raphaelites  would  correct.  Evidently,  the  movement 
was  not  in  line  with  French  Impressionism  which 
minimized  detail  and  magnified  atmosphere.  But,  like 
Impressionism,  it  was  a  protest,  in  its  case  against  the 
conventionality  and  pettiness  and  lack  of  spirituality 
into  which  contemporary  English  painting  had  sunk. 

Though  Holman  Hunt,  John  Millais,  and  Dante  Ros- 
setti,  originated  the  movement,  Hunt  afterwards  claimed 
that  he  alone  remained  true  to  its  first  intent.  Hunt 
was  really  a  painter  of  easel  pictures,  and  an  artist  with 
whom  multiplicity  of  detail  was  a  hobby.  Whether  in 
in  the  background,  or  in  the  foreground,  his  detail, 
always  finished  and  often  minute,  was  ever  apparent. 
Because  too  distinct,  his  distances  seem  falsely  near, 
while  his  horizons  appear  as  if  viewed  through  a  field 
glass.  Hunt's  detail  proves  his  failure  to  learn  the 
lesson,  which  was  to  force  itself  on  the  French  moderns, 

33 


MODERN  PAINTING 

that  the  conveying  of  information  is  not  the  highest 
purpose  of  painting. 

Hunt  had  imbibed  his  naturalism  from  Ruskin  ;  from 
him  that  notion  of  exactness,  of  so-called  truth  to 
nature,  which  in  practice  becomes  untruth.  Because 
without  blurring,  or  that  melting  of  objects  one  into 
another  which  the  normal  eye  finds  in  distances,  Hunt's 
canvases  seem  hard  and  unreal.  Because  destitute  of 
a  definite  color  system,  and  because  of  the  independ- 
ence of  elaborated  parts,  he  usually  lacks  synthesis. 
Requiring  no  insight,  since  conveying  no  subjective 
impression,  he  is  comprehensible  at  a  glance  and  so 
contains  those  essentials  of  popularity  which  make  for 
early  but  not  lasting  reputation. 

Through  Hunt's  influence,  Millais  was  brought  to 
adopt  ideas  and  methods  akin  to  his  own,  therefore,  in 
the  landscapes  of  the  latter,  during  that  period  of  influ- 
ence, every  object  was  clear-cut  as  if  the  eye  were 
focussed  on  it  alone.  Of  course  this  "truthfulness" 
won  the  allegiance  of  Ruskin.  To  Millais'  only  normal 
vision,  a  method  proper  to  Hunt's  unusual  eyesight 
would  ere  long  become  questionable,  so,  later,  we  find 
Millais  turning  to  a  broader  treatment  wherein  sugges- 
tion to  some  extent  took  the  place  of  the  literalism  of 
the  other.  This,  despite  the  fact  that,  in  thus  changing 
his  style,  he  incurred  the  denunciation  of  his  former 
eulogizer. 

34 


MODERN  PAINTING 

This  breaking  from  Hunt  did  not  quite  spell  advance, 
for  it  is  admitted  that,  to  no  little  extent,  Millais  then 
began  to  popularize  his  work.  That  he  lacked  genuine 
heart  impulse  is  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  his  themes 
never  welled  from  a  source  central  within  him.  Rather, 
he  resembled  the  ordinary  workman  who  looks  around 
wondering  what  next  he  should  do.  In  such  an  artist, 
we  expect  neither  heights  of  dramatic  intensity,  nor 
deeps  of  moving  tragedy. 

As  for  the  third  member  of  this  distinguished  group, 
Rossetti  was  a  poet  of  mystical  tendencies,  a  word- 
painter  of  rare  refinement,  a  colorist  in  whose  poems  a 
hundred  shades  of  language  glowed  and  gloomed  in 
artistic  arrangement.  So,  even  as  his  eminent  and 
devoted  disciple  BurneTjpnes,  he  was  instinctively 
opposed  to  the  literalism  of  his  two  colleagues  and 
could  not  but  idealize  in  his  painting.  Enamored  of 
historical  subjects,  he  treated  them  not  in  accordance 
with  fact,  but  as  he  would  have  them ;  in  other  words, 
he  threw  over  them  a  poetical  glamor  the  result  of 
which  was  a  surface  prettiness  leaving  the  under- 
currents of  life  unsounded.  In  respect  to  this  phase 
of  artistic  expression,  the  author  of  Rose  Mary  was  a 
better  poet  than  painter. 

In  his  first  exhibition  picture  The  Girlhood  of  Mary 
Virgin,  painted  soon  after  the  foundation  of  the  brother- 
hood, Rossetti  had  indicated  the  differences  which  more 

35 


MODERN  PAINTING 

and  more  would  separate  him  from  Hunt  and  Millais. 
Technically,  Rossetti  was  inferior  to  these  artists,  but 
he  possessed  in  greater  degree  that  sense  of  rhythm 
which  usually  is  denied  to  painters  of  English  parent- 
age. Rossetti  always  strove  for  color  which  he  called 
the  physiognomy  and  the  body  of  a  picture,  that  by 
which  immediately  it  is  known  and  loved.  Delacroix 
had  made  color  a  chief  means  to  dramatic  ends,  but 
Rossetti's  use  of  it  resulted  rather  in  the  sensuous. 
To  some  extent,  this  caused  the  accusation  that  he 
belonged  to  the  fleshly  school  of  painting  and  also  to 
that  of  poetry,  in  fact  the  school  with  which  the  early 
Swinburne  was  identified.  This  accusation,  easily 
drawn  from  the  staid  and  somewhat  narrow  British 
public,  would  have  been  quite  incomprehensible  in  the 
land  of  De  Maupassant  and  Zola  and  Manet. 

Of  the  Pre-Raphaelites,  Rossetti  and  Burn e- Jones 
especially,  it  is  curious  that,  while  asserting  the  need 
of  a  return  to  nature,  they  have  chosen  few  subjects 
from  contemporary  life.  While  in  many  ways  akin  to 
Rossetti,  though  as  a  colorist  inferior  to  him,  Burne- 
Jones  proved  himself  worthy  of  place  beside  the  three 
leaders  of  the  movement.  So  enamored  of  beauty  for 
itself  was  he  that  not  to  have  lived  in  the  middle  ages 
was  his  one  regret.  To  dream  beneath  the  domes  and 
in  the  shadows  of  their  mighty  erections,  not  as  one 
looking  back  from  a  material  present,  but  as  contem- 

36 


MODERN  PAINTING 

porary  with  men  whose  ideals  had  flowered  forth  in 
the  grand,  the  stately,  the  majestic,  the  memorable,  of 
cathedrals  and  castles,  yes,  to  dream  thus  seemed  a 
boon  fit  for  one  who,  making  subject  to  be  the  first 
essential  of  his  painting,  turned  to  the  Arthurian  legends 
and  the  Biblical  narratives  and  the  myths  of  classical 
antiquity. 

The  art  of  Burne-Jones  much  lacked  masculine 
qualities.  It  held  the  mirror  to  nature  only  when 
beauty  was  to  be  reflected,  when,  for  instance,  the 
human  face  was  smoothed  of  every  emotion  which 
could  distort  its  features.  It  was  a  pretty  art  that  of 
Burne-Jones,  femininely  pretty,  but  an  art  in  which  the 
eye  and  the  senses  find  reaction  from  the  extremes  to 
which  Modernism  has  arrived. 

Though  taking  root  in  England,  Futurism  is  not 
indigenous  thereto.  It  is  an  exotic  from  Italy  whose 
soil  afforded  no  nourishing  ingredients.  The  wizard 
Marinetti  produced  that  anomalous  plant  and  nourished 
it  to  flowers  of  strangeness,  rather  than  beauty. 

The  viewpoint  of  art  peculiar  to  the  Futurist  is  one 
which,  for  the  ordinary  mortal,  is  difficult  of  reach.  In 
expressing  what  is  seen  from  that  viewpoint,  a  Futurist 
painting  takes  shape  and  color  and  proportion  unlike 
anything  in  this  world.  As  the  Futurist  should  best 
understand  his  aims  and  ends,  let  the  words  of  an 
extremist  of  the  cult  elucidate  them :  "  By  means  of 

37 


MODERN  PAINTING 

contrasted  color,  form,  lines,  planes,  and  dimensions, 
that  in  no  way  represent  natural  forms,  it  is  possible 
to  create  emotions  infinitely  more  stimulating  that  any 
created  by  duplicating  nature." 

As  his  name  would  indicate,  the  Futurist  scorns  every 
harking  back  to  the  murals  of  dead  and  musty  Egypt. 
Rejecting  the  primitive  archaism  which  appealed  to  the 
Post-Impressionist,  he  looks,  for  instance,  to  London 
and  Chicago  streets  and  to  New  York  skyscrapers  and 
to  factory  chimneys  and  to  Coney  Island  and  what 
ever  is  indicative  of  the  rush  and  whirr  of  metropolitan 
life. 

Marinetti  is  an  Idealist  gone  astray ;  one  in  absolute 
revolt  from  the  Classicism  of  his  native  Italy.  By 
distorting  or  obscuring  reality,  he  would  suggest  an 
interior,  a  subjective  form,  one  requiring  intelligent 
search,  whereas,  groping  blindly,  he  seizes  the  merely 
fantastic  and  presses  it  into  his  service. 

Holding  that,  while  seemingly  quiescent,  life  has  a 
certain  movement,  even  if  only  vibratory,  and  observ- 
ing that  in  every  activity  of  the  body  the  eye  gives 
motion  to  what  it  contacts,  the  Futurist  painter  would 
suggest  these  movements  and  thus  make  the  beholder 
a  part  of  the  picture  by  means  of  a  multiplicity  of 
force-lines  each,  whether  curving  or  straight,  always 
concordant  or  nearly  so.  In  respect  to  curves,  we  should 
add  that  the  Futurist  much  prefers  the  straight  line 

38 


MODERN  PAINTING 

and  the  terminal.  Since  its  force-lines  convey  no  idea 
of  depth,  Futurist  art  should  be  classed  with  the  two- 
dimensional  work  of  the  decorative  schools.  In  passing 
let  us  say  that  the  Futurists  have  discarded  the  human 
model  and  have  criticised  the  Cubists  for  its  use,  even 
when  obscured  after  the  manner  of  their  cult.  In 
respect  to  line  and  its  significance,  the  Futurists  have 
evolved  a  theory  even  more  absurd  than  that  of  the 
Neo-Impressionists.  For  instance,  they  hold  that  hori- 
zontal lines,  cutting  into  half-revealed  faces,  and  then 
into  portions  of  irregular  landscape,  suggest  one's 
starting  on  a  journey. 


Jjeing  motion,  there  is  overmuch  peculiar  evidence  of 
journeying  in  Futurist  paintings.  Thus,  the  racing  of 
a  horse,  or  the  rushing  of  a  railroad  train,  is  indicated 
by  a  multiplicity  of  outlines  each  indicating  some 
position  which  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  would  for 
an  instant  occupy. 

In  another  instance,  Futurist  motion  is  indicated  by 
the  figure  of  a  man  in  the  street,  then  on  the  sidewalk, 
and  then  entering  his  home.  Inasmuch  as  the  Cubists 
achieved  only  the  static,  their  latest  idea  of  motion 
by  Futurist  methods  has  resulted  in  such  pictures  as 
Duchamp's  celebrated  Nude  Descending  the  Stairs.  Now, 
since  real  motion  results  from  rhythmic  organization, 
one  suggesting  continuous  flow  like  that  of  a  waterfall, 
and  since  neither  the  Cubist  nor  the  Futurist  attain  to 

39 


MODERN  PAINTING 

such  a  result,    the  futility  of  uniting  their  methods 
to  indicate  motion  is  apparent. 

A  series  of  similar  lines  or  outlines  indicates  only 
the  successive  points  at  which  a  moving  object  pauses 
momentarily.  In  other  words,  such  outlines  are  in 
effect  static  and  indicative  merely  of  successive  changes 
of  position.  This  is  true  of  Nude  Descending  the  Stairs^ 
and  also  of  the  pictured  man  in  the  street  and  then  on 
the  sidewalk  and  then  entering  his  home.  The  latter 
picture  really  creates  the  impression  of  three  inde- 
pendent views. 

In  an  art  which  ever  approaches  subjective  form,  or, 
rather,  man's  idea  of  that  form  which,  because  proper 
to  the  Creative  Word  itself,  is  perhaps  beyond  his  cog- 
nition, Synchromism  —  a  child  of  American  parentage 
—  has  taken  the  latest  step.  The  Synchromists  have 
striven  to  make  composition  as  intense  as  did  Rubens, 
while  as  colorists  they  have  eschewed  all  but  the 
spectrum  seven.  Like  Cdzanne,  whose  color  scheme 
they  claim  to  have  made  abstract  by  rejecting  his 
local  color  which  suggests  natural  objects,  they  have 
achieved  three-dimensional,  organized  and  rhythmic 
form  by  means  of  color.  In  fact,  they  claim  to  have 
reached  the  goal  of  their  art  in  the  perfect  poise  of 
every  necessary  of  painting  as  expressed  through  their 
scientific  arrangement  of  warm  and  cold  colors. 

Now  while  Cdzanne's  form  was  largely  objective, 

-«r 

40 


MODERN  PAINTING 

theirs  would  eliminate  the  idea  of  objectivity.  Such 
an  abstract  method  allows  immense  latitude  to  the 
artist.  Let  any  number  of  Synchromists  paint  the  idea 
conveyed  by  a  landscape,  or  a  human  figure,  and  no 
two  results  will  resemble  each  other.  As  demonstrated 
by  Synchromism,  abstract  form  is  not  a  haphazard 
assembly  of  parts,  but  an  organization  constructed 
much  after  the  manner  of  a  fugue. 

In  their  attempted  suggestion  of  the  purely  subjec- 
tive by  means  of  color  organization,  the  Synchromists 
knowingly  or  unknowingly  have  entered  the  domain  of 
metaphysics,  or,  more  properly,  that  of  Occultism 
which  holds  that  the  hues  of  external  nature  are  but 
pale  reflections  of  those  proper  to  the  super-sensible 
world  wherein,  if  one  pierce  deep  enough,  color  becomes 
not  only  intense  and  all-pervasive,  but  an  evident  cre- 
ative potency.  Indeed,  an  Occultist  might  argue  that, 
as  an  inner  urge,  color  has  been  operative  on  the 
theorizing  painters  since  the  advent  of  Delacroix. 

The  English  Vorticists  stand  for  the  ultra-modern, 
not  only  in  painting,  but  in  sculpture,  poetry,  and 
music.  In  respect  to  painting,  they,  as  colorists,  have 
reacted  against  the  cold  greys  of  Cubism,  while  carry- 
ing organized  form  to  a  subjectivity  comparable  with 
that  of  the  Synchromists.  With  only  spectrum  colors, 
the  Vorticists  would  create  a  simply-organized  color 
arrangement  capable  of  generating  a  subjective  impres- 


MODERN  PAINTING 

sion,  itself  generating  impressions  even  as  a  ball  of 
snow  gathers  bulk  when  in  motion.  Again,  that  original 
impression  may  be  compared  to  a  vortex  which  gathers 
to  itself  the  surrounding  waters.  As  painters,  the  cult 
have  yet  to  create  simple  impressions  virile  enough  to 
fulfill  the  duty  which  Vorticism  requires  of  them. 


II 


In  outlining  the  ideals  and  tendencies  of  modern 
painting,  we  have  refrained  from  the  technical  lan- 
guage of  the  art  critic  and  his  nice  discriminations,  as 
well  as  his  wordy  description  of  methods  and  details. 
Our  chief  object  has  been  to  gain,  from  the  essentials 
of  the  schools  and  cults  mentioned,  a  place  of  vantage, 
and  from  it  to  discover  perhaps  the  general  trend  of 
painting  toward  some  goal  to  which  poetry  and  music 
seem  also  directed. 

As  result  of  this  outlining,  we  find  in  the  art  of 
painting  an  impulse  analogous  to  that  which  separated 
philosophy  into  two  great  streams  sourced  the  one  in 
Plato,  and  the  other  in  Aristotle.  Idealism  and  Realism 
have  maintained  their  respective  claims  since  the  days 
of  the  Grecian  Academy,  and,  down  the  centuries,  each 
has  asserted  its  sole  right  to  be. 

The  revolt  of  painting  from  the  modern  Pseudo- 
Classicism  of  David,  and  its  division  into  two  streams, 

42 


MODERN  PAINTING 

was  in  part  due  to  the  spirit  of  freedom  animating  the 
works  of  the  novelists,  dramatists,  and  poets  of  the 
new  age.  The  art  of  Delacroix  is  the  first  moving 
of  the  stream  which  tended  towards  pure  subjectivity, 
whereas,  the  realism  of  Courbet  has  corresponding  place 
in  that  stream  which  flows  through  the  actual  of  the 
visible  world.  As  viewed  by  the  Idealist,  the  esthetic 
arts  are  branches  of  a  parent  trunk,  so,  to  him,  their 
modern  tendency  is  an  increasing  evidence  of  their 
essential  unity.  As  shown  in  the  motif  and  fugue 
effects  of  the  Synchromist,  the  painter  is  more  and 
more  striving  for  what  was  once  deemed  the  sole 
prerogative  of  poetry  and  music.  Simultaneously,  the 
poet  and  the  musician  would  enter  the  supposedly 
exclusive  territory  of  one  or  both  of  the  others. 

Of  unadulterated  Realism  in  painting,  it  is  evident 
that,  while  piercing  no  deeper  than  the  externals  of 
truth,  it  does  mean  the  honest  use  of  one's  eyesight 
instead  of  those  lenses  which  distort  the  image  proper 
to  normal  vision.  The  Realism  of  Courbet  was  the 
inception  of  an  art  which,  if  not  turned  into  the  chan- 
nels of  mere  novelty,  would,  because  of  its  sincerity, 
reach  in  straightforward  course  the  goal  of  every  art. 
On  the  other  hand,  since  the  advent  of  Delacroix,  the 
Idealists  have  increasingly  falsified  the  contour  of 
the  human  figure,  not  in  an  attempt  to  make  it  more 
symmetrical,  but  because  of  secondary  reasons,  for 

43 


MODERN  PAINTING 

instance,  like  Daumier  to  increase  volume,  and  like 
Matisse  for  mere  novelty,  and  like  Picasso  because  of 
his  perversion  of  Cezanne's  dictum :  "  Treat  nature 
by  the  cylinder,  the  sphere  and  the  cone;  the  whole 
placed  in  perspective  so  that  each  side  of  an  object 
and  of  a  plane  directs  itself  toward  a  central  point." 

The  sophistical  excuse  for  the  peculiar  procedure  of 
the  ultra-class  of  painters  was  that  they  subordinated 
one  truth  to  another  and  higher.  So  this  subordinating 
went  on  until  the  outcome  was  something  unlike  any 
object  or  creature  either  in  the  heavens  above,  or  in 
the  earth  beneath,  or  in  the  waters  under  the  earth ; 
while  the  final  truth  to  which  objectivity  had  been 
wholly  sacrificed  was  only  rhythmically-balanced, 
abstract  form  in  three  dimensions  achieved  by  a  cer- 
tain placement  of  primary  colors.  Never£hejgs_s^  the 
"progressives "  of  to-day  see  in  this  jxulcojoe  but 
ffie  beginnings  of  a  pure  art,  one  Ion g^ prepared  for, 
and  now  for  the  first  time  fit  to  achieve  the  really 
desirable. 

Communing  with  Nature,  the  poet  finds  her  wholly 
adequate  to  arouse  the  emotions  which  impel  him  to 
creative  work.  Still,  because  an  Idealist,  he  sees  the 
face  of  the  great  common  mother  not  as  the  ordinary 
man  satisfied  with  externals,  but  as  one  of  penetrating 
vision.  So,  beneath  a  visage  at  times  rough  and 
seamed  and  even  forbidding,  he  sees  her  eternal  youth 

44 


MODERN  PAINTING 

and  fadeless  beauty.  Never  ignoring  external  appear- 
ance, he  somehow  softens  it  by  an  admixture  of  internal 
reality,  and  the  result  is  not  hideous  caricature,  nor 
repulsive  malformation,  but,  rather,  a  veiled  revelation 
of  that  super-sensible  world  of  the  immortals  to  which 
Hope  and  Faith  with  angel  fingers  have  ever  pointed 
the  human  race.  Now  if  an  Idealist,  how  can  the  painter 
repudiate  the  poet's  conception  of  Nature  unless,  as 
we  are  forced  to  believe,  into  every  department  of 
modern  esthetic  art  there  have  entered  Idealists  of  two 
kinds,  the  genuine  and  the  spurious  ? 

If  of  the  latter  class,  the  painter  will  ignore  the 
truth  contained  in  the  words  of  Whitman  :  "the  human 
shape  and  face  is  so  great  that  it  must  never  be  made 
ridiculous,"  and  he  will  reason  thus  :  Since,  for  esthetic 
ends,  Michelangelo  greatly  emphasized  certain  parts 
of  the  human  anatomy,  why  should  not  the  progressive 
artist  of  a  later  day  accomplish  its  distortion,  or  even 
its  arbitrary  re-arrangement,  especially  since  certain  of 
his  eminent  predecessors  have  in  a  lesser  way  set  the 
example  ?  So,  having  adopted  capricious  methods  in 
respect  to  the  human  form,  it  follows  logically  that  he 
should  treat  the  background  and  the  foreground  of  his 
picture,  as  well  as  that  of  his  pure  landscape,  with 
equal  freedom. 

Because  that  Pseudo-Idealism  which  —  as  we  shall 
see  —  is  invading  poetry  and  music,  has,  in  painting, 

45 


MODERN   PAINTING 

culminated  in  Cubism  and  Synchromism,  one  is  led 
to  believe  that  honest,  straightforward  Realism  would 
have  reached  no  such  empty  goal.  We  hold  that  a 
sound  philosophy  of  esthetics  should  guide  the  artist, 
especially  if  he  attempt  the  subjective.  When  gained, 
if  ever,  that  goal  of  subjective  art  the  interior  model 
or  Archetype,  will  no  doubt  explain  the  outer  and  vice 
versa.  In  other  words,  some  resemblance  between  the 
two  will  have  been  achieved.  Because  of  this  view, 
we  boldly  make  issue  with  those  who  declare  that  the 
highest  art  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  objective  world ; 
and  that  form,  however  abstract,  if  only  it  be  rythmi- 
cally  organized  by  means  of  color,  has  fulfilled  every 
essential  of  painting. 

In  estimating  the  worth  of  any  school  among  those 
here  designated  as  pseudo-idealistic,  for  instance,  the 
school  of  Impressionism ;  the  crucial  question  is  :  What 
new  approach,  if  any,  has  it  made  towards  final  Truth  ? 
Now,  Impressionism  has  rendered  obvious  what  before 
was  largely  ignored,  or  even  unnoticed,  namely,  the 
effect  of  reflected  color,  however  transient,  upon  the 
face  of  the  landscape.  To  bring  into  deserved  promi- 
nence this  external  truth  was  an  advance,  since,  to 
probe  Truth  to  the  center,  one  must  first  develop 
capacity  to  understand  its  surface.  While  Impres- 
ionism  was  only  a  two-dimensional  decorative  art,  its 
discovery  in  respect  to  atmosphere  and  local  color  has 


MODERN  PAINTING 

in  a  way  been  accepted  by  many  painters  who  abjure 
the  name  Impressionist. 

A  defect  of  the  Pre-Raphaelites,  and  especially  of 
Hunt,  was  that  over-attention  to  detail  which  produced 
a  too  general  effect,  thus  leaving  the  painting  devoid 
of  marked  focal  points.  On  the  other  hand,  Manet 
was  a  painter  who  in  a  noticeable  way  first  began  to 
slur  over  details  by  blending  them  into  clusters  of  light 
and  shadow.  With  more  or  less  of  modification,  his 
procedure  is  now  followed  by  many  painters  without 
regard  to  school.  By  copying  the  behavior  of  natural 
light  on  a  curving  surface,  Cezanne  achieved  form 
having  length  and  breadth  and  thickness.  So  he 
rendered  obsolete  the  spots  of  the  Impressionists  and 
the  Neo-Impressionists.  Despite  of  the  defects  of 
Pseudo-Idealism,  this  much  of  truth,  together  with  the 
local  color  of  Impressionism,  has  been  derived  from  its 
methods. 

When  certain  painters,  eager  to  be  thought  original, 
had  considered  that,  after  Michelangelo,  little  or  nothing 
was  left  to  the  portrayer  of  the  human  form  as  God 
had  fashioned  it,  they  straightway  conceived  the  idea 
of  improving  on  His  handiwork.  Now,  of  the  great 
public,  the  laity  if  you  please  —  not  all  fools,  nor  yet 
like  Carlyle's  British  public  mostly  fools  —  it  is  safe 
to  affirm  that  never  will  they  accept  distorted  or  else 
arbitrarily  arranged  form  done  in  arbitrary  colors ; 

47 


MODERN  PAINTING 

never  will  they  concede  that  art  should  so  contradict 
what  with  eyes  of  satisfaction  they  have  daily  looked 
upon.  No,  never !  even  though  every  foremost  repre- 
sentative of  Pseudo-Idealism  should  dilate  upon  the 
wonderful  qualities  of  complex  organization  and  subtle 
rhythm  and  color  arrangement  and  what  not  achieved 
by  modern  methods. 

It  is  of  interest  to  the  psychologist,  and  even  to  the 
pathologist,  when  the  works  of  Matisse  — who  admitted 
that  he  painted  emotionally  and  without  the  aid  of  his 
intelligence  —  and  when  with  these  the  bizarre  canvases 
of  the  crazy  Dutchman,  Van  Gogh,  are  deemed  mile- 
stones in  a  progression  from  the  Pseudo-Classicism  of 
David  to  the  latest  nondescripts  of  Synchromism. 

For  the  artist  who  would  adhere  to  normal  methods, 
and  with  them  essay  originality,  it  is  perhaps  unfor- 
tunate that  he  came  into  the  world  after  so  many 
eminent  predecessors ;  but  genius  often  has  achieved 
the  seemingly  impossible  and  will  do  so  again.  As 
for  the  Pseudo-Idealist,  it  is  but  just  to  say  that  in 
attempting  abstract  form  he  regards  the  truth  announced 
by  Pythagoras  that  the  universe,  or  Macrocosm,  was 
constructed  geometrically,  and  likewise  man  the  micro- 
cosm. Hence  the  Synchromist  obeys  geometry  and 
the  law  of  rhythm  as  exemplified  by  the  human  body 
in  action.  In  fact,  the  majority  of  ultra-modern  painters 
have  deemed  it  unwise  to  abandon  the  fundamentals 


MODERN   PAINTING 

of  rhythmic  organization  as  laid  down  by  the  early 
schools.  So,  having  placed  one  foot  on  the  earth,  with 
the  other  they  would  touch  the  heavens,  or,  what  is 
more  likely,  they  care  nothing  for  the  heavens  toward 
which,  as  a  rule,  they  are  as  agnostic  as  were 
De  Maupassant  and  Zola.  What  then  are  they  if  not 
mere  displayers  of  perverted  ingenuity  by  deviating 
to  the  farthest  from  objective  form,  while  never  quite 
losing  touch  with  it  ? 

And  so  it  has  come  to  this,  that  we  who,  though  not 
painters,  may  yet  have  ideas  of  beauty  and  truth,  are 
asked  to  believe  that  the  makers  of  geometrical  puz- 
zles—  gaudy  with  the  colors  in  which  the  savage  loves 
to  deck  his  person  —  are  the  torch  bearers  of  Art  into 
the  future  to  be  the  original  lights  thereof,  while,  far 
in  the  rear,  a  few  flickering  tapers  almost  burned  out 
and  extinguished  are  the  pale  reminders  of  men  once 
the  glory  of  awakened  Italy,  and  of  Spain  and  Flanders 
and  Holland  and  England.  But  why  say  more  ?  Why 
enlarge  on  conditions  outside  our  purview,  since  strictly 
they  come  within  the  province  of  mental  pathology  ? 

The  placing  of  manner  above  matter  is  a  shallow 
doing  common  to  the  ambitious  who  yet  are  devoid  of 
originality,  that  which  makes  its  possessor  somewhat 
indifferent  to  novel  forms  of  expression.  Originality 
often  bursts  through  convention  into  a  larger,  freer 
form,  but,  like  the  musician  Wagner,  it  first  accom- 

49 


MODERN  PAINTING 

plishes  and  then  theorizes,  hoping  that  the  head  will 
verify  the  impulse  of  the  heart. 

It  is  lamentable  that  of  late  years  the  arts  have 
been  invaded  by  those  who,  imagine  that,  unless  one 
is  achieving  the  novel,  his  work  is  stagnant,  or,  more 
likely,  decadent.  In  our  brief  survey  of  modern  tend- 
encies in  painting,  we  have  discovered  the  attitude 
of  certain  make-believe  artists  and  the  by-paths  and 
quagmires  in  which  they  have  lost  themselves.  Now, 
as  we  turn  to  modern  poetry,  and  then  to  modern 
music,  we  should  be  prepared  for  like  results. 

In  passing  let  us  say  that,  after  Michelangelo,  the 
art  of  sculpture  had  no  eminent  exponents  until,  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  France  and  Denmark  and  Italy 
produced  Houdon  and  Thorwaldsen  and  Canova,  all 
artists  of  the  classically  beautiful  after  the  Greek  man- 
ner of  Phidias.  Then  came  the  nineteenth  century 
reaction  toward  Realism,  led  by  such  artists  as  Rodin 
and  that  other  Frenchman,  Paul  Dubois.  Since  the  most 
modern  tendencies  in  sculpture  exhibit  the  peculiarities 
of  Futurist  and  Cubist  and  Vorticist  painting,  let  us, 
without  more  than  mentioning  the  fact,  proceed  to  the 
next  division  of  our  subject. 


5° 


MODERN  POETRY 


MODERN  POETRY 


THAT  the  art  of  poetry  has  entered  upon  a  period 
of  experiment  and  even  of  transition,  perhaps  a 
notable  period,  is  at  least  plausible.  The  pioneer  of 
this  transition  was,  of  course,  Whitman  the  ridiculed 
the  tolerated,  and  finally  the  over-praised  poet  of 
American  democracy  and  universal  fellowship  and 
goodwill.  Whitman  imagined  himself  a  Realist,  and, 
obsessed  by  that  belief,  he  carried  Realism  to  its 
extreme.  Uncovering  much  that  best  were  hidden, 
even  as  Nature  hides  her  dead  and  decaying  things, 
he  laid  himself  open  to  misunderstanding  and  much 
harsh  as  well  as  ignorant  criticism.  Only  his  all- 
permeating  Idealism,  if  any  thing,  will  preserve  Whitman 
and  his  poems  from  the  dust-heap  of  forgotten  men  and 
their  works.  This,  our  candid  opinion,  is  not  that  of 
one  always  opposed  to  the  method  of  the  "good  grey 
poet,"  but  is,  in  fact,  that  of  one  long  since  recovered 
from  serious  Whitmania. 

Without  precedent  in  America,  and  uninfluenced  by 
any  European  poet,  unless  possibly  William  Blake,  who 
himself  had  come  under  the  spell  of  the  amorphous 
Poems  of  Ossian,  Whitman  burst  upon  the  public  in  a 
manner  startling  to  the  vast  majority  of  his  readers,  but 

S3 


MODERN  POETRY 

welcome  to  the  few,  some  of  whom  were  but  unreason- 
ing admirers  of  novelty  as  such,  even  as  were  many 
who  had  praised  the  spurious  MacPherson  productions. 
As  a  realist,  Whitman  turned  from  well-nigh  every 
established  canon  of  the  poet's  art.  At  the  same  time, 
as  Idealist,  he  sought  a  vehicle  of  literary  expression 
larger,  more  underlying,  and  less  trammeled  than  any 
before  discovered.  That  absolute  revolt  from  the 
Greco-Latin  manner  of  David  and  the  Romanticism  of 
the  Italo-French  school  of  Barbizon  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  began  with  Corot  and  eventuated  in  Futurist  and 
Synchromist  painting,  was  a  series  of  departures, 
whereas  the  breaking  away,  that  resulted  in  the 
Whitmanic  chants,  was  sudden  as  it  was  radical. 

Always  the  sincerity  of  the  innovator  is  open  to 
question,  and,  concerning  Whitman,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that,  prior  to  his  radicalism,  his  output  was 
commonplace  enough.  Given  Swinburne's  unparalleled 
felicity  in  the  manipulation  of  rhythms,  and  the  archi- 
tectonic ability  of  Milton  and  the  other  epic  bards, 
Whitman  might  have  remained  somewhat  in  line  with 
the  usual.  We  qualify  the  statement  because,  after 
throwing  overboard  much  that  his  predecessors  had 
deemed  of  value  and  even  indispensable,  Whitman 
made  room  for  certain  excellencies  unique  in  poetry. 
Here  again  he  resembled  certain  modern  exponents  of 
painting. 

54 


MODERN   POETRY 

In  fairness  it  should  be  said  that,  after  just  criticism, 
there  remains  untouched  in  certain  of  the  Whitmanic 
lines  a  force  as  of  the  very  elements,  and  even  more  that 
his  most  successful  imitators  have  never  approached ; 
but  this  excellence  fails  to  make  him  the  "  Kosmos  " 
he  once  declared  himself  to  be,  nor  does  it  arouse 
"  Cosmic  emotion  "  outside  his  direct  following.  While 
often  Whitman  heaps  before  us  a  huge  bulk  of  mere 
materials,  unsystematized  ideas,  the  loose  lumber,  so 
to  speak,  of  what  should  at  least  be  the  framework  of 
a  poetical  structure,  again,  at  his  best,  there  is  in  him  a 
virility  and  a  largeness  which,  while  the  spell  is  on  us, 
make  weak  and  dwarfish  the  work  of  all  but  the  chief 
masters  of  verse.  No  doubt  the  spell  of  these  great 
qualities  —  that  from  which  Emerson  had  freed  himself 
when  he  wrote  his  famous  recantation  — was  operative 
on  such  men  as  Symonds  and  Burroughs,  and,  much 
inhibiting  their  critical  faculties,  permitted  them  to 
accept  Whitman  in  toto. 

Whitman  is  a  mountain  with  vast  depressions  and 
steep  though  short  ascents ;  a  mass  of  inequalities 
which  alternately  draw  and  repel.  Only  through  the 
softening  vista  of  years  can  his  true  outline  be  descried. 
To  decide  whether  or  not  Whitman's  art  was  progres- 
sive or  eccentric,  we  should  determine  the  extent  to 
which  his  chosen  form  of  expression  vitalized  or 
vitiated  his  message.  As  for  that  message,  the  worth 

55 


MODERN  POETRY 

thereof  will  be  tested  by  its  suggestiveness  to  the 
thinking  mind,  and  by  its  ability  to  influence  and  even 
mould  the  lives  of  his  public  to  the  standards  he  so 
ardently  announced. 

Doubtless,  that  message  was  a  trenchant  criticism 
of  American  civilization ;  but,  since  our  purpose  is  to 
determine  Whitman's  influence  on  modern  poetry,  we 
must  refrain  from  an  examination  of  the  philosophy, 
showing  marked  traits  of  Eastern  systems,  and  the 
religion,  somewhat  pantheistic,  and  the  singleness  of 
aim  and  never-failing  optimism  through  sickness  and 
poverty,  of  one  that  ironical  Fate  had  decreed  should 
be  the  poet  of  the  cultured  in  their  mood  of  reaction, 
rather  than  of  the  unlettered  with  whom  he  loved  to 
mingle. 

To  say  that  Whitman  often  unwittingly  dropped 
sheerly  from  the  lofty  to  the  commonplace,  would 
seem  an  insult  to  his  intelligence.  Still,  the  fact  of 
that  quick  descent  is  patent  on  many  a  page  of  Leaves 
of  Grass.  Therefore  we  are  forced  to  the  verdict  that 
Whitman  lacked  correct  estimate  of  literary  values  in 
that  he  deemed  the  commonplace  to  be  worthy  of 
insertion  amidst  the  most  vital  fiber  of  his  poems. 
Because  of  this  lack  of  discrimination,  we  do  not,  like 
Burroughs,  rank  him  with  the  prophets  and  seers. 
Then  again,  as  a  rule,  verbosity  much  weakens  his 
sentences.  Rarely  does  he  attain  condensed  expres- 

56 


MODERN  POETRY 

sion.  Nevertheless,  at  times  his  pictures  are  models 
of  graphic  word-painting. 

In  announcing  himself  as  pioneer  and  trail-blazer 
toward  the  peaks  of  poetical  supremacy,  and  also  as 
pattern  for  the  American  poet  to  come,  Whitman  little 
realized  that  the  presence  of  mere  platitude  in  the  body 
of  his  verse,  all  of  which  had  been  pronounced  excel- 
lent by  such  eminent  men  as  Symonds  and  Burroughs, 
would  encourage  a  crop  of  weaklings  now  inflicting  their 
•vers  libre  on  the  public.  The  decadence  of  certain  of 
these  is  that  of  the  mere  copier  to  whose  early  demise 
their  own  will  compare. 

No  doubt,  a  number  of  such  imitators  have  equalled 
the  platitudes  referred  to,  but,  thus  far,  few  indeed 
seem  capable  of  rise  from  the  bald  and  sterile.  While 
not  deeming  them  wise,  we  do  not  in  this  condemna- 
tion include  certain  of  Whitman's  contemporaries  whose 
admiration  of  certain  passages  in  Leaves  of  Grass  had 
induced  them  to  adopt  somewhat  of  the  methods  of 
one  who,  in  his  own  manner,  is  at  times  unapproach- 
able. As  for  vers  libre,  it  is  claimed  that  its  inner 
rhythm  being  more  pronounced  than  the  somewhat 
lax  rhythm  of  what  is  called  poetical  prose,  such  verse 
demands  for  itself  that  line  division  which,  when  under- 
stood, is  felt  to  be  not  arbitrary,  but  natural.  As  for 
definite  form,  it  is  admitted  that,  this  achieved,  vers 
libre  would  belie  its  name.  Then  again,  it  is  held  that, 

57 


MODERN  POETRY 

since  modern  expression  tends  toward  individualism, 
the  poet  is  a  law  unto  himself  in  many  matters  includ- 
ing poetical  form. 

While  the  point  is  debatable,  we  grant  that  Whitman's 
seeming  formlessness  was  due  neither  to  indolence,  nor 
indifference  to  established  form.  Still,  we  do  maintain 
that,  searching  for  a  vehicle  of  expression  ample  enough 
for  the  future  world  poet,  Whitman  at  his  highest 
attained  to  but  the  vast  and  shadowy  outline  of  a  form 
perhaps  beyond  the  seizing  of  any  genius  yet  born. 
When  the  spell  of  that  nebulous  shape  is  on  the  imagi- 
inative  reader,  he  becomes  a  collaborator  adding  many 
a  touch  to  the  picture.  To  put  it  differently :  in  the 
Whitmanic  poems  are  many  vital  seeds  which  germi- 
nate and  flower  in  the  receptive  and  fertile  mind. 
Perhaps  to  this  excellence  is  due  that  over-valuation 
which  some  of  eminent  name  have  placed  on  Whitman 
as  a  whole. 

Among  the  manufacturers  of  vers  librc  are  the 
American  Imagists  or  Vorticists,  who,  discarding 
meter,  claim  to  base  their  verse  on  cadence.  While 
not  ;strictly  imitators  of  Whitman,  especially  in  his 
introspective  moments  and  in  his  cosmic  grasp,  they 
yet  have  taken  their  cue  from  him  when  an  image- 
maker,  and  especially  when  he  finds  worth  in  little 
things  usually  deemed  insignificant  and  otherwise 
poor;  therefore,  the  supposed  beauties  in  a  dust  heap 

58 


MODERN  POETRY 

are  enough  to  fire  the  Muse  of  the  Imagist  to  estatic 
utterance. 

That  the  modern  French  tendency  in  art,  which  often 
expressed  itself  most  strangely  in  painting,  should  at 
the  same  time  find  another  outlet  in  poetry,  was,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  inevitable.  Hence  the  arrival  of 
such  Imagists  as  Verhaeren,  the  most  prominent  of  the 
group,  and  others  of  less  calibre.  All  of  these  were  to 
some  extent  influenced  by  Whitman  in  whom,  from  the 
first,  both  the  French  and  the  English  saw  America's 
reatest  poet. 

The  name  vers  librc,  which  originated  in  France, 
and  has  come  to  mean  any  free  verse,  was  first  applied 
only  to  the  work  of  the  French  Imagists,  for  example, 
to  that  of  De  Gourmont  whose  opinion  of  Imagism  he 
defined  thus :  "  If  we  hold  to  its  narrow  and  etymo- 
logical sense  Imagism  signifies  almost  nothing;  but 
outside  that  it  means  independence  in  literature,  liberty 
in  art,  and  avoidance  of  existing  forms.  Also  it  means 
a  tendency  toward  what  is  new,  strange,  and  even 
bizarre."  Again  he  says  :  "  One's  only  excuse  for  cre- 
ative work  is  originality ;  he  should  say  things  not  yet 
said,  and  in  a  form  never  before  formulated." 

Exactly  !  but  supposing  one  itching  for  notoriety  has 
nothing  worthily  original  to  communicate,  then  to  him 
Imagism  must  be  a  godsend,  because,  for  sane  reasons, 
the  strange  and  the  bizarre  were  until  lately  but  little 

59 


MODERN  POETRY 

occupied  fields  wherein  one  could  exhibit  a  forced  or 
even  a  spurious  originality  with  some  hope  of  audience. 
Evidently,  the  American  Imagist  can  claim  two  lines  of 
ancestry,  that  stemming  from  Verhaeren,  and  that  from 
Whitman.  It  were  unjust  to  the  French  Imagists  to 
attempt  in  English  their  strange  and  bizarre  "  poems," 
nor  is  this  necessary,  since  the  American  following  can 
furnish  every  example  indispensable  to  our  initiation 
into  the  methods  of  true  art. 

The  Imagist  cult  holds  that  the  chief  office  of  the 
poet  is  to  suggest  through  an  image  which,  for  his 
word-painting,  takes  the  place  of  pigment.  This  image 
should  be  the  most  intense  and  concentrated  expres- 
sion of  the  thing,  by  means  of  the  art  best  adapted  to 
that  expression.  Thus  the  image  becomes  a  magnetic 
center  to  which,  or  a  vortex  into  which,  ideas  are 
drawn.  Also,  it  is  a  prolific  womb  from  which  those 
ideas  emerge  in  amplified  form.  Thus,  the  Imagist  or 
Vorticist  poet  .virtually  enters  literary  partnership  with 
the  sympathetic  reader  who,  in  turn,  usually  supplies 
mentally  the  filling  in  of  what  is  but  outlined  or  hinted 
in  the  picture.  That  this  is  so  the  following  from  Miss 
Amy  Lowell  well  illustrates : 

OMBRE   CHINOISE 

"  Red  foxgloves  against  a  yellow  wall  studded  with  plum-colored 

shadows ; 
A  lady  with  a  blue  and  red  sunshade  ;          Lo    6  5"" 

60 


MODERN  POETRY 

The  slow  lap  of  waves  upon  a  parapet. 
That  is  all." 

Facility  of  expression,  that  requisite  of  the  best 
prose,  has  always  been  demanded  of  the  poet.  His 
"flowering  forth  in  many  a  golden  phrase  "  is  true  not 
of  Virgil  alone.  Such  excellence  is  proper  to  every 
greatj  modern  poet  from  Shakespeare  to  Tennyson 
and  Browning.  To  allow  this  flowering  forth  to  occur 
chiefly  in  the  mind  of  the  reader,  is  for  the  poet  to 
shirk  a  difficult  though  obvious  duty  which  only  he  by 
nature  and  cultivation  is  fit  to  perform.  His  public 
cannot,  in  reason,  be  required  to  measure  up  to  his 
peculiar  endowment. 

Now,  the  Imagist  cares  no  more  for  this  flowering 
forth  than  for  the  time-honored  poetical  forms  which, 
with  a  sneer,  he  leaves  to  the  dilettante,  because 
Whitman  has  molded  his  opinion  and  expressed  it 
thus : 

"  What  is  this  you  would  bring  my  America  ? 
Is  it  a  mere  tale  ?  a  rhyme  ?  a  prettiness  ? 
Has  it  not  dangled  long  at  the  heels  of  poets  ? 

Certainly  Whitman  understood  the  value  of  antithe- 
sis, and,  having  a  large  idea  to  express  in  his  chosen 
manner,  he  magnified  that  manner  by  minimizing 
rhyme  and  meter  of  which,  nevertheless,  he  has  given 
us  several  worthy  examples.  Although  the  Imagist  is 


61 


MODERN  POETRY 

agreed  with  Whitman  in  scorning  rhyme  and  prettiness, 
there  are  divergencies  in  the  methods  of  the  two,  as 
we  shall  see. 

Whitman's  interest  was  centered  in  man,  the  modern 
man,  of  which  in  his  chants  he  made  himself  the  type, 
for,  has  he  not  said 

"  I  celebrate  myself  and  sing  myself 
And  what  I  assume  you  shall  assume." 

And  again  ? 

"  I  will  not  make  a  poem,  nor  the  least  part  of  a  poem,  but  has 

reference  to  the  soul. 
Because,  having  looked  at  the  objects  of  the  universe,  I  find 

there  is  no  one,  nor  any  particle  of  one,  but  has  reference  to 

the  soul." 

Everywhere  and  always  we  discover  Whitman  seek- 
ing to  identify  himself  with  his  environment,  and  even 
the  world  itself,  as  if,  beneath  the  objective,  he  divined 
some  basic  unity  of  all  life.  It  is  this  idealistic  attitude 
which  makes  Whitman  one  of  the  most  subjective  of 
poets,  and  also  distinguishes  him  from  the  Imagist 
who  views  man  and  the  world  objectively,  and  in  fact 
materially  and  superficially,  and  so  avoids  what  he 
deems  over-emphasis  of  any  component,  whether  it  be 
person  or  thing.  This  the  Imagist  does  that  he  may 
image  individualism  and  maintain  balance  of  parts. 

62 


MODERN  POETRY 

The  Imagist  has  formulated  a  creed,  perhaps  chiefly 
that  the  old  Adam  of  perversity  in  him  may  have 
opportunity  to  disobey.  One  article  of  the  creed 
requires  direct  treatment  of  the  "  thing,"  whether  sub- 
jective or  objective.  Also,  in  disagreement  with  the 
verbose  method  of  Whitman,  it  requires  the  avoidance 
of  any  word  not  contributing  to  the  presentation. 
Evidently,  the  poet  must  eschew  decorative  language 
and  literary  transposition  and  confine  himself  to 
straight,  colloquial  speech,  in  fact,  to  what  a  poet  of 
the  cult  has  indicated  thus : 

"  Little  cramped  words  straggling  all  over  the  paper 
Like  draggled  flies'  legs." 

Within  the  circle  of  a  narrow  vocabulary,  employed 
with  the  directness  of  common  speech,  effectiveness 
requires  a  workman  both  skilled  and  virile ;  hence  the 
Imagist  often  breaks  for  liberty,  and  celebrates  his 
release  in  extraordinary  and  amusing  linguistic  exhibi- 
tions thus  : 

"Lacquered  mandarin  moments,  palanquins  swaying  and  bal- 
ancing 
Amid  the  vermillion  panoplies,  against  the  jade  balustrades." 

Another  article  of  the  creed  insists  that  the  Imagist 
renounce  the  dilapidated  and  outgrown  meters  and 
rhythms  which,  for  lack  of  larger  and  more  adequate 


MODERN  POETRY 

ones,  have  restrained  the  elder  bards,  and  that,  as 
precursor  of  a  better  era,  he  produced  new  ones.  With 
the  first  of  these  requirements  the  Imagist  cheerfully 
complies,  perhaps  because  it  is  the  easiest  way.  As 
for  the  second,  it  is  plain  that,  either  through  incom- 
petence or  frowardness,  he  or  she  fails  miserably  as 
evidenced  in  our  first  quotation,  one  from  a  poet  much 
above  the  average  of  the  cult. 

Here  is  another  gem  from  the  same  source : 

"  My  thoughts 

Chink  against  my  ribs 

And  roll  about  like  silver  hail-stones." 

Whenever  refraining  from  his  "  lacquered  mandarin 
moments,"  Mr.  John  Gould  Fletcher  descends  to  ordi- 
nary language  and  gives  us  some  such  note-book 
jottings  as  this  snap-shot  view  of  London  from  a  'bus 
top : 

"  Black  shapes  bending, 

Taxicabs  crush  in  the  crowd, 

The  tops  are  each  a  shining  square."  .  .  . 

Another  Imagist,  one  no  less  gifted,  jots  down  and 
measures  off  this  impression  of  London  by  night : 

"  Into  the  sky 

The  red  earthenware  and  the  galvanized  iron  chimneys 

Thrust  their  cowls. 

The  hoot  of  the  steamers  on  the  Thames  is  plain." 


MODERN  POETRY 

•? 

The  latest  development  of  vers  libre  in  America  is 

the  "  polyphonic  prose "  of  Miss  Amy  Lowell  who 
derived  the  idea  from  the  French  of  Paul  Fort.  Poly- 
phonic prose  allows  cadenced  verse,  and  lines  in  meter, 
and  even  those  with  rhymed  endings  and  also  "  orator- 
ical prose."  Each  can  be  used  alternately,  or  in  any 
way  satisfying  the  artistic  sense  of  the  author. 

Besides  such  Vorticists  and  Imagists  as  Ezra  Pound, 
John  Gould  Fletcher,  and  Miss  Amy  Lowell,  there  are 
other  manufacturers  of  vcrs  librc,  for  instance,  the 
Italian  Symbolist  and  Futurist  Marinetti  whom  we 
have  introduced  in  our  dealing  with  Futurist  painting. 
He  it  is  whose  poetical  methods  represent  the  ultimate 
of  radicalism,  unless  the  palm  be  awarded  to  the  ideo- 
graphic poetry  of  Guillaume  Appolinaire. 

For  the  edification  and  enlightenment  of  the  reader, 
let  us  condense  a  few  utterances  taken  from  the 
manifestos  of  Marinetti.  To  begin  with,  all  ancient 
monuments  and  every  work  of  art  over  twenty  years 
old  should  be  destroyed,  and  living  artists  —  and  poets 
for  that  matter — should  be  restricted  to  not  more  than 
twenty  years  of  productivity.  Only  by  these  drastic 
measures  can  the  world  escape  the  obsession  of  Antiq- 
uity and  Classicism.  The  Symbolist  poet  abhors  details, 
analogies,  explanations,  but  he  admires  abbreviation, 
summary,  synthesis. 

Disregarding  syntax  and  eliminating  adjectives,  and 

65 


MODERN  POETRY 

even  punctuation,  the  Symbolist  should  hurl  at  the 
reader  a  confused  medley  of  sensations  and  impressions 
in  words  necessary  only  to  render  all  the  shocks  and 
vibrations  of  his  ego.  If  able,  he  should  create  an 
immense  web  of  analogies,  and  —  whatever  this  means 
—  he  should  reproduce  telegraphically  the  analogical 
basis  of  life.  Always  he  will  be  as  laconic  as  possible, 
that  so  he  may  be  in  tempo  with  an  age  of  speed.  In 
these  days  of  wireless  telegraphy,  his  images  and 
analogies  should  be  expressed  in  disjointed  words  arid 
without  the  connecting  wires  of  syntax. 

The  Symbolist  should  omit  qualifying  adjectives, 
since  they  hinder  the  reader's  intuition.  He  should 
prefer  the  infinitive  of  the  verb,  for  it  indicates  endless 
motion  as  of  a  wheel,  whereas,  ordinary  verbs  are 
squares  and  triangles,  or,  at  best,  ovals.  To  bind  his 
sentences  he  should  use  brief  mathematical  and  musical 
signs  and,  wjth  the  latter,  he  will  indicate  the  tempo  of 
any  part  of  his  poem.  He  should  make  and  unmake 
words  by  cutting  down  or  lengthening  them,  and  so 
shall  he  have  a  new  orthography,  in  fact  free  expres- 
sion. Finally,  to  avoid  a  typographical  sameness  of 
the  printed  page,  he  should  use  ink  in  several  colors 
and  type  of  perhaps  twenty  sizes  and  kinds. 

From  this  heaped  up  nonsense,  it  is  almost  a  relief 
to  turn  to  such  writers  as  James  Oppenheim  and 
Edgar  Lee  Masters  and  certain  others,  for  these  have 

66 


MODERN  POETRY 

refrained  from  the  limit  of  lawlessness.  Masters  hav- 
ing come  into  prominence  through  his  Spoon  River 
Anthology,  let  us  without  choosing  produce  extracts 
from  a  few  sample  "  poems  "  of  the  two  hundred  and 
fourteen  between  the  covers  of  that  book : 

CHASE   HENRY 

"  In  life  I  was  the  town  drunkard ; 

When  I  died  the  priest  denied  me  burial  in  holy  ground. 

The  which  redounded  to  my  good  fortune, 

For  the  Protestants  bought  this  lot, 

And  buried  my  body  here, 

Close  to  the  grave  of  the  banker  Nicholas, 

And  of  his  wife  Priscilla." 

Now  from  an   Imagist  poem  that  well  fulfils   the 
requirements : 

MRS.    SIBLEY 

"  The  secret  of  the  stars,  —  gravitation. 
The  secret  of  the  earth,  —  layers  of  rock. 
The  secret  of  the  soil,  —  to  receive  seed. 
The  secret  of  the  seed,  —  the  germ. 
The  secret  of  man,  —  the  sower. 
The  secret  of  woman,  —  the  soil." 

Now  let  the  poet,  Masters,  of  course,  indicate  his 
dislike  of  the  usual  in  poetry : 

PETIT  THE   POET 

"  Seeds  in  a  dry  pod,  tick,  tick,  tick, 

Tick,  tick,  tick,  like  mites  in  a  quarrel.  .  .  . 

67 


MODERN  POETRY 

Triolets,  villanelles,  rondelles,  rondeaus, 

Ballades  by  the  score  with  the  same  old  thought.  .  .  . 

Triolets,  villanelles,  rondelles,  rondeaus, 

Seeds  in  a  dry  pod,  tick,  tick,  tick, 

Tick,  tick,  tick,  what  little  Iambics, 

While  Homer  and  Whitman  roared  in  the  pines !  " 

The  brutal  straightforwardness  of  Chase  Henry,  and 
many  similar  productions  in  the  Anthology,  is  an  extreme 
protest  against  the  insipid  and  petty  of  much  current 
minor  poetry  which  yet  shows  mastery  of  mere  tech- 
nique. As  a  movement,  vers  libre  is  comparable  to  the 
reaction  of  French  Realism  against  the  older  schools 
of  painting,  and,  like  that  Realism,  vers  libre  will  pass  on 
and  out  whenever  its  mission  of  protest  is  accomplished. 

We  mistrust  that  in  Mrs.  Sibley  our  author  imagined 
himself  profound,  but  then,  in  respect  to  his  most 
inconsequential  sayings,  even  Whitman  evidently  fell 
into  like  error.  In  Petit  the  Poet,  Masters  hints  at,  or 
else  takes  for  granted,  a  similarity  between  Whitman 
and  Homer.  Now,  the  hexameter  of  the  old  Greek 
poet  was  the  culmination  of,  rather  than  the  breaking 
from,  an  evolution  of  rhythm  and  meter  requiring  for 
its  perfection  perhaps  more  centuries  than  are  reckoned 
from  Chaucer  to  Tennyson,  whereas,  one  may  look  in 
vain  for  the  exact  prototype  of  the  Whitmanic  lines, 
those  which  Swinburne  labelled  "  sham  Pindarics." 

Of  that  ultra  phase  of  poetry  vers  libre,  or,  as  some 

68 


MODERN  POETRY 

prefer,  "  unrhymed  cadence  "  or,  what  is  more  impres- 
sive, "  polyrhythmical  poetry,"  its  disciples  and  advo- 
cates claim  that,  prior  to  contemporary  times,  it  existed 
as  Imagist  verse  in  the  rhythmical  prose  of  many  a 
writer  never  regarded  as  a  poet.  As  we  have  endeav- 
ored to  make  plain,  vers  libre  opposes  a  determined 
front  against  rhyme,  and  even  against  rhythm  as 
understood  prior  to  the  appearance  of  Leaves  of  Grass. 

Purporting  to  incorporate  the  great  natural  rhythm 
of  ocean  continually  advancing,  retreating,  and  the 
forest  music  of  winds  subdued  to  zephyrs,  or  lifted  to 
tempests,  and  even  the  dithyrambic  heart-eloquence  of 
Adamic  man  who  talked  with  angels,  and  held  con- 
verse with  God  his  maker,  vers  libre  voices,  instead, 
the  croak  of  the  raven,  the  caw  of  the  crow,  and  the  cry 
of  the  screech  owl.  Moreover,  in  lieu  of  the  primeval 
eloquence  of  one  fashioned  in  the  Divine  Likeness,  is 
heard  the  "  barbaric  yawp  "  of  the  savage,  and  the 
mutterings  and  stutterings  as  of  some  unfortunate 
deficient  in  mind  and  puny  in  body. 

Should  it  be  asked  why  from  certain  quarters  the 
present  clamor  against  rhyme  and  meter,  the  reply  is 
that  rhyme  always  hampers  free  expression,  and  that 
rhythm,  as  heretofore  understood,  has  been  an  equal 
hindrance,  that  together  they  shape  to  their  own  sec- 
ondary ends  the  thought,  the  idea,  in  passage  from  the 
brain  to  paper. 


MODERN  POETRY 

Against  this  contention  we  in  turn  contend.  The 
technique  of  his  chosen  instrument  is  no  hindrance 
to  the  skilled  performer,  nor  does  the  florid  or  the 
chromatic  bar  the  trained  singer  from  his  triumph. 
Technique  is,  in  fact,  the  obedient  servant  and  the 
powerful  ally  of  either  artist.  Without  technique,  he 
would  find  his  level  in  the  ranks  of  the  mediocre.  The 
poet  who  neglects  preparation,  who  shirks  the  tech- 
nique of  his  art,  is  unworthy  of  name  and  fame.  He 
must  be  content  with  such  crumbs  thereof  as  the  flattery 
of  friends  and  the  questionable  praise  of  the  ignorant. 
To  this  poetaster,  vers  libre  offers  plausible  excuse  for 
his  constitutional  laziness;  so,  by  sophistical  arguments, 
the  weakling  is  led  into  the  net  of  mere  license.  Fur- 
thermore, though  his  crude  attempts  at  subtile  rhythm 
fail  to  convince  the  trained  ear,  the  poetaster  has  at 
command  another  resource.  By  arbitrarily  breaking 
the  whole  into  lines  of  varying  length,  as  in  Master's 
Spoon  River  Anthology ',  perhaps  the  "  poem  "  will  shape 
to  the  eye  even  as  the  real  article.  While  knowing  this 
last  is  deemed  an  ignorant  criticism,  we  nevertheless 
believe  it  one  that  analysis  of  such  productions  will 
justify. 

The  perpetrators  of  vers  libre — among  whom  are 
certain  ones  calling  themselves  Post-Impressionist 
poets  —  scorn  the  technique  above  spoken  of,  for,  like 
the  Post-Impressionist  painters,  they  are  enamored 

70 


MODERN  POETRY 

of  the  primitive,  the  untutored  aboriginal  attempts  of 
those  in  whom  brawn  predominated  at  the  expense 
of  brain.  Into  this  folly  these  exponents  of  vers  libre 
are  led  largely  by  their  great  prototype  Whitman  who 
often  confounded  mere  physical  robustness  with  true, 
manly  power. 

As  offset  to  a  freedom  often  leading  to  the  verge 
of  lawlessness,  Whitman  had  somewhat  of  the  cos- 
mic touch,  and,  it  is  claimed,  he  had  attained  to  Cosmic 
Consciousness.  This  attainment  was,  no  doubt,  a 
matter  of  philosophy  more  than  of  actual  experience 
since  Cosmic  Consciousness  is  that  rounded  excellence 
which  precludes  such  inequalities  as  abound  in  Leaves 
of  Grass.  Having  found  his  vehicle,  the  weakling 
aspires  to  the  Whitmanic  standard.  He  too  would  be 
Cosmic,  but  the  pitiful  result  of  his  attempts  to  fill  the 
Whitmanic  matrix  proves  him  fit  not  for  the  large,  but 
in  fact  only  for  the  infinitesimal.  Furthermore,  the 
manufacturers  of  vers  libre  and  kindred  products  act 
on  the  theory,  derived  primarily  from  French  realistic 
art,  and  secondarily  from  Whitman,  that  whatever  exists 
is  worthy  of  their  treatment;  that,  to  the  poet,  both 
noble  and  ignoble  are  meaningless  words,  that  to  him 
the  New  York  skyscraper  and  the  Chicago  stock 
shamble  and  the  packing  house  should  be  as  inspiring 
as  the  Parthenon  and  the  grove  of  the  Academy.  Even 
the  intelligent  journalist,  who  never  aspired  to  poetry, 


MODERN  POETRY 

has  discovered  that  very  many  matters  and  things  are 
unworthy  of  his  ordinary  prose. 

From  every  external  and  internal  evidence  at  our 
command,  we  contend  that,  but  for  Whitman,  and  the 
French  Radicals  and,  lastly,  Marinetti,  neither  Imagism, 
Vorticism,  Post-Impressionism,  nor  Symbolism  —  with 
its  verbs  restricted  to  the  infinitive  and  its  plus  and 
minus  signs  in  lieu  of  adjectives  —  nor  any  other 
departures  from  the  normal  of  poetry,  would  have 
come  into  ephemeral  being  and  unwarranted  notice. 
Nevertheless,  the  disciples  of  vers  libre  think  other- 
wise, and  would  trace  its  inception  to  the  Shakespearian 
plays  and  the  general  structure  of  the  Samson  Agonist  es 
of  Milton. 

In  the  evolution  of  the  Shakespearian  blank  verse 
toward  a  larger  and  freer  rhythm,  its  end-stopped  lines, 
very  numerous  in  the  early  plays,  are  superseded 
gradually  by  run  on  lines  which  reach  their  maximum 
of  frequency  in  such  plays  as  Tempest.  To  these  late 
lines  we  cannot  apply  the  usual  rules  of  scansion, 
since  the  accent  would  then  fall  on  unimportant  words. 
In  the  Samson  Agonistes,  that  product  of  the  author's 
maturest  period,  run  on  lines  and  lines  of  unequal 
length,  together  with  variable  feet,  are  rather  the  rule 
than  the  exception. 

Our  modern  experimenters  in  poetry  usually  proceed 
on  the  theory  that  the  momentary  expression  must 

72 


MODERN  POETRY 

correspond  with  the  momentary  thought.  If  Post- 
Impressionist  poets,  they  probably  derive  this  notion 
from  French  Post-Impressionist  painting.  Now  we 
contend  that  the  evolution  of  the  Shakespearian  and 
the  Miltonic  blank  verse  was  toward  "unrhymed 
cadence  "  as  a  highly-evolved  creation  whose  sponta- 
neity was  that  of  art  which  mostly  conceals  itself ; 
whereas,  because  of  inability,  or  —  what  is  more  prob- 
able—  because  of  a  perverse  theory,  the  momentary 
expression  of  the  experimenters  is  that  of  the  raw 
beginner,  and  exactly  corresponds  with  his  raw 
momentary  idea.  Below  the  consummate  reach  of  a 
Shakespeare  or  a  Milton  lies  the  locality  of  these 
poetasters,  and,  between  the  two  orders,  yawns  a  pro- 
found and  impassible  gulf. 

Near  the  opening  of  our  discourse,  we  defined  the 
primal  Creative  Trinity,  or  Word,  as  Sound,  Color,  and 
Form.  Also,  we  emphasized  the  importance  and  the 
place  of  the  modifications  of  the  three  in  the  arts  to  be 
examined.  From  what  we  have  gleaned  concerning 
modern,  poetical  tendencies,  it  is  too  evident  that  the 
new  cults  are  reducing  poetical  form  to  a  chaos  corre- 
sponding with  that  of  the  unshapen  world,  the  nebulous 
mass  ere  yet  the  Divine  Architect  commanded  it  into 
that  which  we  now  behold. 

In  concluding  this  division  of  our  subject,  let  us 
add  that  a  cult  like  that  of  Imagism,  or  Futurism,  or 

73 


MODERN  POETRY 

whatever  folly  is  to  succeed  it,  in  short,  a  cult  whose 
standards  make  few  and  slight  demands  and  eventually 
none  whatever  on  the  poet,  would  be  acclaimed  with 
joy  by  those  who,  ambitious  of  distinguishing  them- 
selves in  literature,  are  yet  incapable  of  reaching  the 
goal  of  a  sound  school  of  poetry.  What  could  be  more 
decadent  than  cults  like  these  mentioned?  What 
more  indicative  of  a  transition  period  in  which  Art 
approaches  the  as  yet  Undefined  whose  every  mirage 
cheats  the  untried  sailor,  and  where,  to  his  imagination, 
every  bare  rock-island  hides,  behind  its  curtain  of  ocean 
mist,  perhaps  a  continental  shore  ? 


74 


MODERN  MUSIC 


MODERN  MUSIC 


IN  the  Cosmic  scheme  of  things,  the  first  manifestation 
of  the  Creative  Word  was  Sound  the  correspondent 
of  Life.  Next  appeared  Light,  or  Color,  the  correspond- 
ent of  Love.  At  Creation's  beginning,  Sound  was  one 
concentrated,  unvarying  tone  the  Synthesis  of  all  tones, 
even  as  the  white  sunlight  is  the  synthesis  of  all  colors. 
Then  that  shaping  intelligence  Mind  divided  both 
Sound  and  Light  each,  broadly,  into  three  primaries, 
and  then  subdivided  these  two  classes  of  primaries 
each  into  seven  which,  for  Light,  are  the  seven  basic 
colors,  all  of  them  beyond  human  vision.  In  the  seven 
of  Sound,  as  in  the  seven  of  Color,  were  contained 
infinite  possibilities  of  further  subdivision.  Certain  of 
these  subdivisions  or  octaves  are  within  the  narrow 
grasp  of  our  human  faculties,  but  the  vastly  greater 
number  lie  outside. 

As  an  aspect  of  the  primal  Word,  one  which,  though 
far  removed  from  the  original,  is  yet  of  divine  origin, 
music  contains  sound  as  its  chief  component.  Now, 
while  the  eye  perceives  the  white  sunlight  as  the  syn- 
thesis of  the  color  spectrum,  the  ear  in  its  province  is 
not  so  capable.  The  audible  sounds  in  nature,  and 

77 


MODERN  MUSIC 

those  produced  artificially,  are  but  subdivisions  of  the 
synthesis  of  Sound.  Hence  music,  as  known  to  ter- 
restrial beings,  can  originate  only  in  a  systematic 
arrangement  of  these  subdivisions.  This  arrangement 
is  that  graded  scale  of  ascending  and  descending  tones, 
which  has  undergone  numerous  transformations  in 
many  times  and  countries.  With  this  preliminary,  we 
may  now  inquire  into  the  origin  of  all  music  whatsoever. 

In  descending  manifestation,  having  reached  the 
level  of  human  comprehension,  the  Creative  Word 
gives  itself  to  man  for  his  betterment.  Should  he  be 
a  musician,  his  intelligence  subdivides  and  systematizes 
the  sound  aspect  of  the  Word  into  the  materials  of  his 
art.  Next,  his  love  draws  from  the  color  aspect  of 
the  Word  that  which  beautifies  sound  till  it  becomes 
melody,  or  harmonic  combination.  Meanwhile,  his 
intelligence  draws  from  the  form  aspect  of  the  Word 
the  shape,  the  matrix,  in  which  his  art  is  to  be  cast. 

Since  music  had  its  remote  beginning,  the  problem 
of  the  musician  has  been  to  divide  and  subdivide  tones 
and  to  color  and  shape  them  into  euphonious  art.  The 
results  may  be  enumerated  thus :  The  almost  tuneless 
but  perhaps  rhythmic  attempts  of  barbarous  peoples, 
the  extinct  music  of  ancient  Egypt  and  contempo- 
rary nations,  the  discoveries  of  Pythagoras,  touching 
the  relation  of  music  to  the  Creative  Word  —  discov- 
eries soon  lost  because  never  made  public  —  the  bardic 

78 


MODERN  MUSIC 

improvisations  of  Homer's  time,  the  Greek  modes  and 
the  music  proper  thereto,  the  church  chants  of  Ambrose 
and  Gregory,  the  blind  gropings  of  the  middle  ages 
toward  that  which  is  revealed  in  the  sacred  music  of 
Palestrina,  the  almost  wholly  intellectual  polyphony 
of  the  Flemish  composers,  the  culmination  of  counter- 
point in  the  grand  though  severe  beauties  of  Bach,  the 
departure  toward  that  freer  expression  which  exists  in 
the  work  of  the  classical  school,  the  further  departure 
known  as  Romanticism,  then  the  advent  of  Wagner 
with  new  dreams  and  visions  concerning  music  in 
conjunction  with  the  other  arts,  then,  in  these  times, 
the  arrival  of  Strauss  as  apostle  of  Futurism,  and 
now  the  new  French  school  of  Debussy,  and  the  ultra- 
German  of  Schonberg. 

Ah,  what  Protean  shapes  has  music  worn  down  the 
centuries  even  to  this  the  twentieth,  perhaps  for  tonal 
art  the  most  revolutionary  and  even  iconoclastic  that 
it  may  become  the  most  progressively  upbuilding ! 
Music  had  beginning,  no  doubt,  in  the  crude  rhythms 
of  the  savage  dance,  the  refinements  of  which  have 
been  shaped  gradually  in  many  molds  including  that 
of  the  March.  Meanwhile,  the  human  voice  has  had 
its  office  of  barbaric  song,  refined  gradually  through 
ancient,  historic  times.  Then,  in  centuries  more  recent, 
was  evolved  such  vocal  or  else  instrumental  music 
as  the  Glee,  the  Madrigal,  the  Motet,  the  Mass,  the 

79 


MODERN  MUSIC 

Cantata,  the  Fugue,  the  Opera,  the  Oratorio,  the  Sonata, 
the  Symphony,  and,  lastly,  the  Music  Drama.  Are 
these,  together  with  certain  minor  forms,  not  enough 
for  the  creative  musician?  or  do  more  compelling 
shapes  of  grandeur  and  beauty  yet  hide  and  bide  and 
mature  in  the  womb  of  the  years  ? 


II 


An  examination  of  the  ideals  and  tendencies  of 
modern  music  requires  that  we  begin  with  the  work 
of  Hector  Berlioz,  a  composer  greatly  esteemed  by  his 
critical  contemporaries  in  Germany  and  Russia,  but, 
at  the  same  time,  one  of  little  repute  in  France,  and 
especially  in  his  beloved  Paris.  A  pronounced  musical 
Impressionist  before  the  coming  of  the  Impressionist 
painters,  Berlioz  seemed  only  a  maker  of  bizarre  and 
extravagant  effects  to  the  gay  and  superficial  Parisians 
whose  criterions  in  music  were  Rossini  the  florid  and 
sweetly  melodious  and  Meyerbeer  the  panderer  to 
popular  taste.  Of  his  own  music  Berlioz  says  :  "  Its 
dominant  qualities  are  passionate  expression,  internal 
fire,  rhythmic  animation  and  unexpected  change." 
Again  he  says :  "  My  style  is  in  general  very  daring, 
but  it  has  no  tendency  to  destroy  any  constructive 
element  of  art.  Rather,  I  seek  to  increase  the  number 

80 


MODERN  MUSIC 

of  those  elements.  I  have  not  dreamed  of  writing  music 
without  melody  as  have  certain  ones  in  Germany.  I 
have  not  taken  short  melodies  as  themes,  but  have 
invested  my  works  with  a  wealth  of  melody  of  large 
dimensions." 

Berlioz  was  a  marvelous  colorist  who  employed 
every  tint,  from  black  to  white,  in  every  way  possible 
to  the  orchestra  of  his  day,  nevertheless,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  his  musical  ideas  were  important  and 
almost  epoch-making  because  of  their  clothing,  rather 
than  of  their  intrinsic  worth.  In  fact,  Berlioz  was 
largely  a  creator  of  atmospheres.  So,  to  his  art, 
might,  with  some  warrant,  be  applied  Burne-Jones' 
criticism  of  the  French  Impressionists :  "  they  paint 
atmospheres  and  that  is  not  very  much."  His  merits 
and  demerits  considered  —  and  both  were  indeed 
marked  —  Berlioz  is  valuable  to  progressive  musical 
art  in  that  he  discovered  and  made  passable  the  road 
whereon  Wagner  and  Strauss  attain  to  those  colossal 
things  which,  to  him,  were  but  ambition  unrealized. 

One  article  of  the  creed  by  which,  as  a  German, 
Wagner  ordered  his  daily  walk,  required  him  to  dislike 
everything  French.  In  that  dislike  was  of  course 
included  the  music  of  Berlioz  to  whom,  nevertheless, 
he  as  an  orchestral  composer  owed  much.  Moreover, 
as  a  maker  of  Program  Music,  for  instance,  the  Faust 
Overture,  Wagner  could  look  for  chief  precedent  to 

81 


MODERN  MUSIC 

the  Frenchman,  some  of  whose  larger  works  were 
included  in  this  class ;  one  unfortunately  open  to  the 
charge  of  charlatanism. 

As  a  revolutionist  and  reformer  in  art,  Wagner 
opposed  certain  conventions,  for  example,  the  canons 
of  musical  form  obtaining  until  his  day.  With  philo- 
sophical acumen,  Wagner  searched  deep  for  the  source 
of  musical  forms,  and  discovered  them  to  be  wholly 
subjective,  whereas,  their  outward  expression  was 
largely  artificial.  In  accord  with  Schopenhauer,  his 
accepted  master  in  philosophy,  Wagner  held  that 
subjective  and  wholly  ideal  form  was  proper  to  music 
alone.  On  the  other  hand,  those  exponents  of  modern 
painting  and  poetry,  the  Cubists,  the  Futurists,  and  the 
Synchromists,  together  with  the  poets  of  vers  libre, 
demand  for  themselves  forms  as  fluid  as  any  to  which 
music  has  yet  been  shaped. 

It  was  because  the  chief  component  of  music  is  that 
impalpable  one,  sound,  that  Wagner  demanded  for 
music  a  more  elastic  form  than  those  he  deemed  nec- 
essary to  the  free  expression  of  the  other  arts.  To  his 
view  we  must  take  exceptions,  and  for  several  reasons. 
To  assert  that  by  nature  sound  is  more  impalpable 
than  either  color  or  form,  is  to  judge  from  the  view- 
point of  material  limitations.  To  beings  unhampered 
by  these,  sound  may  be  as  palpable  as  are  color  and 
form  to  us.  Color  and  sound  are  but  rates  of  vibration 

82 


MODERN  MUSIC 

which  owe  their  seeming  unlikeness  to  the  limitations 
of  our  physical  sense  organs. 

A  progressive  art  must  necessarily  outgrow  its  exter- 
nal shaping,  and,  from  time  to  time,  require  a  larger 
and  in  other  ways  more  adequate  one.  Because  modern 
music  is  based  on  not  more  than  the  twenty-four  semi- 
tones of  the  modern  scale,  and  because  the  great 
melodists  had  well-nigh  exhausted  the  possibilities  of 
originality  in  mere  melody,  and  because  skilled  and 
ingenious  harmonists  had  discovered  almost  every 
possibility  of  agreeable  combination,  and  moreover, 
because  music  had  been  cast  in  such  a  variety  of 
molds,  Wagner  held  that,  unless  the  composer  boldly 
entered  the  field  of  mere  formlessness  and  cacophony, 
originality  within  the  province  of  music  by  itself  was 
no  longer  possible.  To  further  the  progress  of  art, 
Wagner  therefore  undertook  the  union  of  music  and 
poetry.  These,  in  conjunction  with  painting  and  sculp- 
ture, would  form  one  great  and  unified  art  form,  in 
fact,  the  Music  Drama. 

Constructing  this  art  work,  Wagner,  as  composer, 
gave  to  music  a  form  and  a  rhythm  more  flexible  than 
those  before  employed  in  Opera.  Also,  he  enlarged 
the  possibilities  of  the  recitative  till  it  included,  as 
almost  free  improvisation,  what  before  had  been  mel- 
ody shaped  in  approved  patterns.  Nevertheless,  in  his 
capacity  as  poet,  Wagner  did  not  break  with  many 

83 


MODERN  MUSIC 

established  poetical  forms.  To  the  advocates  of 
vers  libre  this  must  seem  an  inconsistency  warranting 
the  belief  that  here  the  poet  lacked  the  resource  of  the 
musician. 

Like  many  progressives  and  would-be  progressives 
in  the  mixed  company  of  modern,  creative  artists, 
Wagner  as  a  musician  sought  unadulterated  truth  in 
the  primitive.  It  seemed  to  him  that  this  truth  was 
found  in  the  artless  but  rhythmic  vocal  improvisations 
of  the  Greek  bards  when  chanting  their  poems  of  war 
and  adventure.  That  the  poetical  form  they  employed 
was  far  from  extemporaneous,  being  in  fact  the  fin- 
ished and  well-defined  hexameter,  may  have  influenced 
Wagner  the  poet  in  his  adherence  to  usual  forms. 

Wagner's  opinion  that  music  and  poetry  apart  had 
reached  their  limit  of  normal  expression,  was  a  benefit 
to  art  in  that  it  made  necessary  the  Music  Drama ;  still, 
that  opinion  revealed  the  over-zealous  reformer  whose 
biased  opinion  would  have  little  weight  with  the  musi- 
cian, or  the  poet,  of  a  later  time  whenever  the  desire 
to  compose  only  in  his  chosen  province  was  urging  his 
pen. 

Far  be  it  from  us  to  intimate  that  the  marriage  of 
Music  and  Poetry  in  the  Music  Drama  was  not  vindi- 
cated as  the  result  of  that  profound  analysis  into  which 
Wagner  once  entered,  for,  as  we  have  already  said, 
he  first  achieved  and  then  theorized.  Wagner  argued 


MODERN  MUSIC 

that,  in  their  construction,  modern  languages  reveal 
the  very  beginnings  of  human  speech  to  have  been  a 
sort  of  singing.  With  this  idea  the  present  writer  is 
in  accord,  he  having  elsewhere  endeavored  to  show 
that  language  originated  in  the  sound  aspect  of  the 
Creative  Word ;  and  that,  in  the  most  primitive  attempts 
at  speech,  only  vowels  were  at  first  employed ;  the  broad 
sound  of  A  and  the  long  sound  of  O  being  the  most 
frequent,  while  the  voice  dwelling  on  these  made  a  sort 
of  singing.  Gradually  the  consonants  came  into  use. 
Meanwhile,  sound  as  a  language  was  colored  and 
shaped  by  the  other  two  components  of  the  Creative 
Word.  In  making  music  and  poetry  an  inseparable 
unity,  Wagner  would  return  them  to  their  primal  con- 
dition plus  that  rich  development,  which,  through  count- 
less centuries,  they  had  undergone  as  separate  arts. 

The  natural  bent  of  Wagner's  mind  caused  him, 
both  as  poet  and  musician,  to  approach  and  illuminate 
his  subject  from  the  interior.  Always  in  the  Music 
Drama  he  was  more  or  less  the  psychologist,  and,  in 
fact,  his  deliberate  choice  of  the  legend  and  the  myth, 
as  alone  suited  to  his  artistic  treatment,  originated 
in  his  habit  of  exploring  that  subjective  world  of  causes 
which  determines  the  activities  of  man's  outward 
existence. 

In  both  the  legend  and  the  myth,  the  actors  stand 
forth  shorn  of  the  commonplace  and  the  minutiae  of 

85 


MODERN  MUSIC 

daily  life.  Interest  is  now  centered  mainly  in  these 
actors  as  doers  of  great  deeds,  while  yet  they  are 
beings  not  wholly  unlike  ourselves.  In  choosing  such 
for  his  dramas,  Wagner  the  poet  could  devote  himself 
chiefly  to  a  revelation  of  the  complex  mental  states 
beneath  the  simplified  action  which  the  drama  required. 
Next  it  was  incumbent  on  Wagner  the  musician  to 
illustrate  musically  those  mental  states  as,  for  instance, 
in  the  marvellous  Love  Death  in  Tristan. 

Wagner  once  confessed  that  his  approach  to  that 
fullness  of  subjective  detail  which,  as  poet,  he  gave 
to  the  composer  of  Tristan,  was  but  a  gradual  one 
begun  with  the  Flying  Dutchman  where,  with  but  a  few 
general  outlines,  the  poet  indicated  the  work  of  the 
composer.  Reviewing  the  work  which  filled  the  stormy 
and  stressful  years  of  his  life,  Wagner  could,  without 
much  exaggeration,  affirm  that  through  his  Music 
Dramas,  as  an  entirety,  he  had  revealed  a  subjective 
world  worthy  to  compare  with  that  more  tangible  one 
toward  which  the  indomitable  Genoese  navigator  had 
steered  his  prow. 

Wagner's  theory  and  practice  having  finally  united 
in  Tristan^  no  new  phase  of  development  could  be 
expected  in  the  great  Ring  Trilogy  —  much  of  which 
was  written  before  Tristan  —  and  certainly  nothing 
new  should  be  hoped  of  Parsifal  which  shows  the 
composer  as  now  past  his  meridian  of  achievement. 

86 


MODERN  MUSIC 

Since  the  beginnings  of  musical  Romanticism,  and 
especially  since  the  great  piano  compositions  of  Chopin, 
the  conclusion  has  been  forced  more  and  more  on  the 
musician  that  the  group  of  acknowledgedly  related 
keys  has  been  much  too  limited.  Weighty  evidence  in 
support  of  this  conviction  exists  in  the  fact  that  modu- 
lations and  transitions,  once  condemned  as  harsh  and 
violent,  were  afterwards  accepted  without  a  murmur. 
On  no  modern  composer  had  this  conviction  pressed 
so  heavily  as  on  Wagner  when  seeking  the  musical 
equivalents  of  the  subjective  in  his  dramatic  poems. 

Necessarily,  Wagner  sought  to  establish  among  the 
twenty-four  keys,  possible  to  the  modern  scale,  a  larger 
grouping  than  the  most  radical  musician  had  before 
conceived  of.  Moreover,  he  employed  many  effects 
which  he  excused  in  these  words :  "  When  occasion 
required  I  could  venture  terrible  things  in  music  since 
the  action  rendered  them  comprehensible,  but  which, 
apart  from  the  drama,  should  not  be  risked  lest  they 
become  grotesque."  In  dealing  with  music  since 
Wagner,  we  shall  keep  well  in  mind  the  warning  con- 
tained in  this  saying  of  the  greatest  of  the  moderns. 

An  individuality  compelling  as  that  of  Wagner,  could 
not  but  influence  certain  contemporary  composers  who 
yet  would  not  accept  him  in  toto.  Thus,  when  past  the 
usual  period  of  production,  Verdi  developed  certain 
Wagnerian  tendencies.  As  for  his  younger  country- 


MODERN  MUSIC 

men,  the  crossing  of  the  Music  Drama  with  the  Italian 
Opera  has  resulted  in  but  a  hybrid  incapable  of  repro- 
ducing itself. 

Wagner  had  gone  far,  but  it  remained  for  another, 
in  another  generation,  to  duplicate  or  perhaps  exceed 
his  methods.  That  this  successor  would  be  forthcoming 
was  probable  since  no  man,  however  eminent,  in  passing 
leaves  a  total  void.  Somewhere,  someone  is  training 
to  occupy  his  place,  if  not  to  fill  it.  Accordingly,  in 
due  season,  appeared  another  Richard  purporting  to 
be  of  the  same  high  lineage,  that  of  the  prophets,  and 
concerning  whose  credentials  let  us  now  inquire.  If 
mere  precocity  were  sure  indication  of  the  future, 
superiority  should  be  accorded  to  Strauss,  a  musician 
by  birth  and  sprung  from  a  father  musically  eminent. 
As  a  youth,  Strauss,  then  a  composer  of  the  somewhat 
conventional,  had  won  the  notice  and  even  the  praise 
of  such  musicians  as  Von  Bulow,  whereas,  at  a  corre- 
sponding period,  Wagner's  mind  seemed  in  a  nebulous 
and  almost  chaotic  condition.  What  with  musical  and 
literary  absurdities  inspired  by  doubtful  talent  inherited 
from  no  revealed  source,  Wagner  seemed  of  that  unfor- 
tunate type  which,  because  of  some  mental  defect,  is 
always  attempting  great  things,  but  accomplishing 
nothing. 

Strictly  speaking,  Strauss  is  the  successor  of  Liszt 
more  than  of  Wagner  who  doubted  the  ability  of 

88 


MODERN  MUSIC 

instruments  alone  to  express  much  that  Liszt,  through 
the  program  music  of  his  Symphonic  Poems,  would 
make  obvious.  Speaking  of  this  music,  Liszt  says  that 
a  program  should  be  a  foreword  couched  in  intelli- 
gible language  and  preceding  some  purely  instrumental 
work,  to  prevent  its  arbitrary  interpretation,  and  to 
direct  attention  to  the  poetical  ideas  to  be  expressed. 
Evidently,  the  methods  which  Strauss  has  carried  to  at 
least  their  logical  conclusion  are  Lisztian,  rather  than 
Wagnerian.  In  shaping  their  divergent  theories  of 
Music  as  a  progressive  art,  neither  Wagner  the  poet 
composer,  nor  Liszt  the  piano  virtuoso,  could  avoid 
the  conclusions  which  his  bent  imposed  upon  him. 

Adopting  the  Lisztian  theory,  Strauss  abandoned  the 
manner  of  his  apprentice  years  and  entered  a  province 
toward  which  not  only  Liszt,  but  also  Berlioz,  had 
directed  him.  Thus  Strauss,  in  Zarathrusta,  has  not 
attempted  to  philosophize  as  did  Wagner  in  Tristan 
and  Rhincgold,  but  rather  to  convey,  through  instru- 
mental music  alone,  an  idea  of  the  development  of  the 
human  race  from  the  atom  to  superman.  A  stupendous 
undertaking,  but  not  wholly  a  successful  one  as  may  be 
taken  for  granted.  Concerning  this  attempt  of  Strauss, 
we  shall  hold,  in  the  face  of  every  criticism,  that  it  is  a 
legitimate  one  and  known  as  such  to  his  inner  self  for, 
as  Wagner  has  affirmed,  the  inspired  musician  speaks 
truth  in  a  language  which  his  mere  reason  fails  to 


MODERN  MUSIC 

understand.  As  we  have  already  said,  after  countless 
modifications,  Sound,  as  an  attribute  of  the  Creative 
Word  reaches  down  to  mortal  comprehension,  and  by 
man  is  shaped  into  music,  its  highest  terrestrial  expres- 
sion. Why  then  should  the  musician  halt  at  the  task 
of  depicting  the  creative  and  evolutionary  processes  in 
the  external  world  ?  or,  for  that  matter,  in  the  subjec- 
tive world  of  causes  also  ? 

If  our  position  be  tenable,  we  must  nevertheless 
allow  that,  as  the  externalization  of  interior  potencies, 
both  sound  and  color,  and  also  form,  have  experienced 
many  restrictions.  Desire  to  determine  these  for  music, 
painting,  and  poetry,  in  order  to  achieve  every  possi- 
bility within  legitimate  bounds,  is  the  incentive  beneath 
all  modern  experiments  in  those  arts. 

As  already  explained,  original  harmonious  Sound, 
together  with  Color  and  Form,  was  the  vibratory  power 
which  shaped  the  world  to  that  ideal  form,  the  sphere. 
Contrawise,  discordant  sound,  together  with  darkness 
and  formlessness,  was  the  primal  chaos.  As  in  the 
beginning,  so  now;  the  essential  nature  of  both  har- 
mony and  dissonance  obtains  forever  throughout  their 
manifestations. 

To  the  musician,  tonal  harmony  means  vastly  more 
than  a  simple  succession  of  closely-related  chords.  To 
him  a  Bach  Fugue,  a  Beethoven  Symphony,  a  Chopin 
Ballade,  or  a  Wagnerian  Music  Drama,  are  as  harmo- 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

nious  as  are  the  intricate  processes  of  world-building 
to  the  geologist.  On  the  other  hand,  mere  dissonance, 
whether  in  the  natural  world  or  in  that  of  the  musician, 
corresponds  with  disintegration  and  return  perhaps  to 
confusion.  It  corresponds  with  what  the  normal  mind 
contemplates  with  regret,  unless  when,  for  instance, 
the  demolition  of  a  fine  structure  or  a  stately  column 
means  that  its  place  is  to  be  better  filled. 

For  reasons  which  to  him  seem  justified,  Strauss, 
having  crossed  the  borderland  of  harmony  as  defined 
by  the  moderns,  has  boldly  entered  the  domain  of 
mere  cacophony  with  its  quagmires  and  pitfalls  fit  to 
undo  the  most  wary.  As  a  cacophonist,  Strauss  can 
be  empty,  or  petty,  or  even  wholly  ugly,  as  are  certain 
paintings  of  the  French  Realists.  Again  his  cacophony 
is  of  terrible  dramatic  intensity.  As  a  whole,  he  exhib- 
its inequalities  comparable  to  those  of  the  poet  Whitman, 
for  whom  a  mountain  peak  meant  a  valley  hard  by. 

Strauss'  art  shows  far  less  of  height  and  much  more 
of  depression  than  Wagner's,  but  both  arts  lack  com- 
pression. Even  in  his  great  music  dramas,  Wagner 
may  be  likened  to  the  orator  so  enamored  of  his  abili- 
ties that  he  forgets  that,  if  too  protracted,  eloquence 
may  be  wearisome.  As  for  Strauss,  in  the  midst  of 
torrents  of  cacophony,  he  fails  to  consider  that  the  ears 
of  even  his  most  inured  admirers  have  their  limit  of 
endurance. 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

In  the  art  of  instrumentation,  Strauss  is  without  an 
equal.  His  contributions  to  orchestral  effects  are 
many  and  unique.  To  this  extent,  at  least,  he  is  a 
progressive.  Learning  from  Berlioz  and  Wagner  and 
Liszt,  he  in  turn  will  impart  to  future  composers  for 
grand  orchestra. 

Mere  mechanical  dexterity  is  not  musicianship,  but 
only  natural  aptitude  developed  by  practice.  So  it 
is  only  a  somewhat  higher  correspondent  of  the  apti- 
tude and  development  of  the  skilled  artisan.  Mere 
dexterity  in  orchestral  writing  is  but  a  more  intellectual 
correspondent  of  the  other  two.  A  Chopin  endowed 
with  a  wealth  of  musical  ideas,  but  exhibiting  little  or 
no  capacity  for  orchestral  scoring,  may  be  a  far  greater 
genius  than  a  Strauss.  As  in  estimating  a  man  his 
garb  means  but  little,  so,  in  the  final  estimate  of  a 
musician,  the  intrinsic  worth  of  his  ideas,  and  not  their 
mere  clothing,  will  alone  have  weight.  In  original 
ideas  do  we  not  find  a  touchstone  to  decide  whether 
the  metal  of  Strauss  be  gold,  or  alloy,  or  only  some 
baser  material  ? 

In  a  symphony,  or  a  sonata,  or  any  other  form  of 
absolute  music,  the  merit  of  an  idea  is  easily  determined. 
Now,  by  natural  bent,  Strauss  is  a  maker  of  program 
music  wherein  he  illustrates  a  literary  theme.  In  this 
illustration,  ideas  purely  musical  give  way  to  those 
based  on  considerations  perhaps  quite  complex.  In 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

program  music,  Strauss  has  far  outstripped  Lizst  and 
also  Wagner  whose  art  theories  actually  taboo  such 
program  music  as  the  Faust  Overture,  Tannhauser's 
Pilgrimage,  the  prelude  to  Lohengrin,  the  Ride  of  the 
Valkyries,  and  certain  other  specimens  scattered  through 
his  works. 

In  his  Symphonic  Poems  —  really  program  music  — 
Strauss  feels  justified  in  employing  effects  which  Wagner 
allowed  only  in  the  Music  Drama,  and  for  reasons  made 
plain  in  the  quotation  already  given  :  "  When  occasion 
required  I  could  venture  terrible  things  in  music,  since 
the  action  rendered  them  comprehensible,  but  which, 
apart  from  the  drama,  should  not  be  risked  lest  they 
become  grotesque."  This  quotation  defines  sharply 
the  line  of  cleavage  between  Wagnerian  and  Straussian 
methods.  Our  personal  opinion  is  that  while  Wagner 
was  somewhat  circumscribed  by  his  theories,  the  quo- 
tation yet  contains  a  warning  which,  to  some  extent, 
Strauss  should  heed. 

In  an  attempt  to  determine  the  actual  worth  of 
Strauss'  ideas,  if  we  turn  from  the  flaring  tone-colors 
of  his  grand  orchestra  to  his  songs  with  piano  accom- 
paniment, and  there  inspect  ideas  clothed  only  with  such 
color  as  the  human  voice  and  the  pianoforte  can  give, 
what  is  the  result  of  an  impartial  estimate  if  not  a  few 
lyrics  worthy  of  the  best  song  writers,  and  many  more 
decidedly  commonplace,  or  almost  empty,  and  certain 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

others  that  are  actually  ugly?  The  surest  test  of  a 
melodist  is  his  ability  to  compose  a  simple  song  that 
reaches  the  heart.  In  the  Lieder  we  have  Strauss  at 
his  simplest,  the  musician  stripped  of  every  glittering 
accessory,  and  the  result,  considered  as  a  whole,  is 
poverty,  or  almost  that. 

The  time  was  when  for  their  author  such  defects 
meant  speedy  oblivion,  but,  fortunately  for  Strauss,  he 
lives  in  an  era  when,  like  the  Athenians  who  listened 
to  Paul's  preaching,  people  are  eager  for  some  new 
thing.  Because  novelty  now  gains  a  ready  hearing, 
manner  has  an  opportunity  almost  equal  with  matter. 
The  manner  of  Strauss  is  the  most  pronounced  of  any 
composer  thus  far,  and  this  manner  blinds  his  admirers 
to  the  comparatively  insufficient  matter  in  his  orchestral 
numbers.  In  fact,  the  baldness  of  many  of  his  themes, 
when  reduced  to  piano  music,  makes  evident  their 
inferiority  to  those  of  Wagner. 

Manner  being  his  chief  end,  we  can  well  understand 
Strauss'  bold  excursions  into  the  desert  of  mere  dis- 
sonance. We  grant  that  his  gigantic  tone-structures 
require  materials  of  all  kinds  including  some  never 
before  used,  but  we  do  insist  that  mere  cacaphony  is 
a  material  of  which  it  were  wise  to  make  no  great 
show.  As  the  most  pronounced  realist  and  mannerist 
who  ever  invaded  the  realms  of  tone,  Strauss  is  bent 
chiefly  on  the  novel  and  the  startling;  moreover,  the 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

true  goal  of  the  musician  is  not  for  such  as  he.  While 
harmony  was  within  his  reach,  cacophony  was  nearest 
and  so,  even  before  the  composition  of  Zarathrusta , 
he  chose  the  one  at  hand,  the  one  most  useful  to  his 
purpose. 

Concerning  Strauss,  a  query,  not  unlike  that  induced 
by  the  inequalities  of  Whitman,  demands  answer.  This 
demand  is  emphasized  by  the  fact  that,  whereas,  in 
times  past  the  great  artists  in  every  department  had 
their  dull  moments,  it  was  impossible  for  them  wholly 
to  leave  the  heights  and  drop  to  mere  platitude,  or 
turgidity,  or  some  other  fault  of  the  talentless ;  and  yet 
all  this  too  often  is  true  of  certain  among  the  eminent 
moderns.  The  anomaly  suggests  several  answers,  one 
of  which  is  that  the  religious,  the  scientific,  the  politi- 
cal, the  social,  and  the  economic  conditions  of  to-day 
have  psychological  effect  on  the  creative  artist,  and 
therefore  upon  his  art  in  its  every  fibre. 

Now,  while  the  painter  of  the  merely  conventional, 
and  the  poet  of  the  birds  and  the  flowers,  and  the 
composer  of  superficial  salon  music,  are  almost  outside 
the  current  of  the  potent  but  subtle  influences  ema- 
nating from  the  complex  activities  of  our  times,  it  is 
for  the  artist,  bent  on  novel  and  notable  things,  to  feel 
the  full  sweep  of  that  current.  Therefore  is  he  even 
as  a  man  standing  on  a  tall  column  where,  to  be  safe, 
one  should  be  well-poised  and  strong  throughout.  Like 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

that  man,  this  artist  is  subject  to  many  forces,  and, 
because  of  certain  defects  in  him,  these  tend  to  disturb 
and  upset  his  unstable  equilibrium. 

That  the  compositions  of  Strauss,  his  music  dramas 
included,  contain  many  passages  of  great  beauty,  or 
else  of  real  dramatic  power,  it  were  bigotry  to  deny. 
Nevertheless,  no  work  of  any  author,  not  even  of 
Strauss,  can  hold  together  longer  than  its  weakest 
parts  permit.  This  means  that  of  some,  and  perhaps 
of  not  a  few,  of  Strauss'  most  vaunted  tone-poems  and 
music  dramas,  only  fragments  will  be  preserved  to 
future  generations,  as  is  the  case  with  Handel's  operas. 

Even  should  the  work  of  Strauss  be  known  to  after 
times  only  through  excerpts,  or  should  his  tone-poems 
survive  merely  as  musical  curiosities,  their  author  nev- 
ertheless has  done  much  toward  furthering  musical 
progress.  In  defiance  of  the  limitations  wherewith  the 
theorizing  Wagner  had  hedged  instrumental  music 
round  about,  Strauss  has  opened  a  new  field  for  its 
enlargement.  This,  independent  of  his  success  or  non- 
success  therein.  Furthermore,  in  his  symphonic  poems 
he  has  evolved  a  freer  and  more  ample  art  form 
than  the  conservative  Brahms  could  have  discovered 
from  the  enclosure  which  the  leaders  of  the  classical 
school  had  marked  out  for  him. 

While  of  Berlioz,  and  of  Liszt,  and  even  of  Wagner, 
it  is  true  that  his  place  in  progressive  art  has  been 


MODERN  MUSIC 

well-defined  and  is  now  accepted  by  the  musical  pub- 
lic, it  must  be  confessed  that,  to  estimate  Strauss, 
we  have  crossed  the  boundaries  of  settled  opinion  and 
have  entered  a  region  of  conjecture.  Therein,  if  at  all, 
we  shall  deal  with  such  moderns  as  Debussy,  Ravel, 
Cyril  Scott,  Scriabine,  Stravinski,  Max  Reger  and 
Schonberg. 

In  support  of  these  composers,  their  adherents 
advance  a  certain  argument,  one  echoed  in  somewhat 
faint  and  timid  way  by  those  who  halt  between  two 
opinions,  either  because  undecided  which  way  to  turn, 
or  else  fearing  that  decision  will  mark  them  as  too 
radical,  or  else  too  conservative. 

This  argument  is  based  on  the  fact  that  nearly  all 
innovators  in  art  have  been  misunderstood  and  some- 
times maligned  and  persecuted.  Thus,  Haydn  was 
accused  of  daring  to  found  a  new  school  of  music, 
nor  did  the  lucid  Mozart  escape  censure,  and  when, 
having  shaken  off  the  tradition  of  Haydn  and  Mozart, 
Beethoven  had  entered  on  his  period  of  individuality, 
many  contemporary  critics  deemed  him  more  than 
eccentric.  Especially  was  this  true  in  his  latter  period. 
Afterward  we  find  Mendelssohn  condemning  many 
harmonic  progressions  in  the  great  piano-forte  compo- 
sitions of  Chopin.  Then  came  the  fierce  outburst 
against  the  Wagnerian  departures,  and  because  Wagner 
was  a  strong  and  determined  fighter,  the  conflict  waxed 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

hot  and  furious  with  stroke  and  parry  and  counter-stroke 
until  ended  by  the  defeat  of  his  opponents. 

Now  the  argument  referred  to  may  be  stated  thus : 
Because  later  times  have  proved  that  such  critics  as 
we  have  mentioned  were,  at  best,  short-sighted,  and 
some  of  them  were  even  stumbling  blocks  in  the  way 
of  progress,  it  follows  that  failing  to  accept  in  toto 
whatsoever  the  modern  composer  chooses  to  offer,  we 
join  fellowship  with  the  ultra-conservatives  and  the 
dullards  of  yesterday. 

Surely  it  is  a  long  road  that  has  no  turning,  and 
the  mere  fact  that  certain  composers  of  past  times  were 
in  the  straight  way  of  progression  —  appearances  to 
the  contrary  notwithstanding  —  is  no  guarantee  that 
all  others  to  come  will  be  so  fortunate.  In  fact,  we 
have  no  right  to  assume  for  these  an  unfailing  instinct, 
or  a  guiding  star. 

In  this  age  of  striving  after  the  new,  what  more 
natural  than  that  attempters  other  than  Strauss  should 
be  in  the  musical  field  ?  Might  not  some  arrangement 
of  tones,  constituting  a  radical  departure  from  the  mod- 
ern scale  of  twelve  semi-tones,  form  a  basis  whereon 
to  build  a  novel  art,  one  not  necessarily  superseding 
the  old,  but,  no  doubt,  an  agreeable  divergence  from 
it  ?  The  thought  was  parent  of  the  deed,  and  so  the 
whole  tone  scale  came  into  being. 

That   the   whole   tone  scale  —  or,  more  precisely, 

98 


MODERN  MUSIC 

scales  —  are  of  limited  use  appears  from  the  fact  that, 
whereas,  from  the  twelve  semi-tones  of  the  modern 
scale,  twelve  major  and  twelve  minor  scales  are  con- 
structed, these  semi-tones  admit  of  but  two  whole  tone 
scales;  that  from  C  to  C,  and  that  from  C  sharp  to 
C  sharp.  To  one  familiar  with  the  archaic  Greek 
modes,  the  origin  of  these  two  scales  is  obvious.  They 
represent  a  return  to  the  primitive  corresponding  with 
the  return  of  the  Post-Impressionist  painters  to  the 
ideals  of  Egyptian  and  Assyrian  mural  painting. 

That  the  Post-Impressionist  musicians  did  not  return 
to  the  Egyptian  and  the  Assyrian  tonal  systems,  may  have 
been  for  the  sufficient  reason  that  the  music  of  those 
nations  has  vanished,  and  only  vague  conjecture  could 
have  aided  such  return.  Having  neither  beginning, 
middle,  nor  end,  the  whole  tone  scales  are  adapted  to 
vague  and  shadowy  effects.  They  represent  more  of 
super-refinement  than  of  strength,  and  more  of  caprice 
than  of  progress. 

Although  the  ultra-modern  French  composers  are 
using  the  whole  tone-scales,  the  credit  —  if  that  be  the 
word  —  of  first  employing  them,  belongs  perhaps  to 
the  Russian  composer  Moussorgski,  a  man  of  unusual 
natural  ability,  but  one  impatient  of  system  and,  in 
fact,  one  whose  Realistic  and  even  Nihilistic  tenden- 
cies were  reflected  in  his  music  before  the  advent  of 
Strauss.  As  an  entirety,  Moussorgski's  career  was  a 

99 


MODERN  MUSIC 

failure,  but  his  whole  tone  scales  have  survived  in  the 
music  of  Claude  Debussy  and  his  school. 

Debussy's  music  is  a  unique  but  skillful  blending  of 
the  archaic  Greek  modes,  the  whole  tone  scales,  the 
duodecuple  scale  —  to  be  explained  later  —  and  an 
ultra-modern  use  of  the  over-tones  based  on  the  notes 
of  these  scales.  This  use  of  over-tones  requires  some- 
what of  explanation,  thus,  if,  in  the  key  of  C,  the  tonic 
triad  C,  E,  G,  be  sounded,  the  chord  by  itself  is  satis- 
fying and  so  demands  no  resolution.  Now,  since  with 
this  chord  are  heard  such  over-tones  of  C  as  B  flat, 
the  yth  over-tone,  D  the  9th,  and  F  sharp  the  nth,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  over-tones  of  E  and  G,  Debussy 
would  hold  that  the  triad  and  over-tones,  if  struck 
together,  would,  like  the  triad,  be  satisfying  and  so 
demand  no  resolution. 

Since  music  requires  more  or  less  of  chord  progres- 
sion, let  us  see  what  are  certain  of  the  over-tones  up  to 
the  nth  of  our  triad,  and  also  of  the  chord  B,  D,  G, 
to  which  we  will  resolve  it.  Omitting  the  octave  over- 
tones, those  of  C  are  G  the  3rd,  E  the  5th,  B  flat  the 
7th,  D  the  Qth,  and  F  sharp  the  nth.  Those  of  E  are 
B  the  3rd,  G  sharp  the  5th,  D  the  yth,  F  sharp  the  9th, 
and  A  sharp  the  nth.  From  the  ;th  upward,  these 
over-tones  are  proper  to  the  whole  tone  scale  begin- 
ning on  C.  The  over-tones  of  G  are  D  the  3rd,  B  the 
5th,  F  the  yth,  A  the  gth,  and  C  sharp  the  nth.  From 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

the  ;th  upward,  all  are  proper  to  the  whole  tone  scale 
reckoning  from  D  flat,  or  C  sharp. 

The  total  of  varying  notes  in  the  triad  and  its 
over-tones  are  therefore,  C,  E,  G,  B  flat,  D,  F  sharp, 

B,  G  sharp,  A  sharp,   F,  A,  and  C  sharp.     In  the 
chord  B,  D,  G,  the  over-tones  of  B  are  F  sharp  the  3rd, 
D  sharp  the  5th,  A  the  yth,  C  sharp  the  gth,  and  E 
sharp  the  nth.     From  the  ;th  upward,  all  are  proper 
to  the  whole  tone  scale  reckoning  from  C  sharp.     For 
D  the  over-tones  are  A  the  3rd,  F  sharp  the  5th,  A  the 
6th,  C  the  yth,  E  the  Qth,  and  G  sharp  the  i  ith.    From 
the  7th,  all  are  proper  to  the  whole  tone  scale  reckoning 
from  C.     The  over-tones  of  G  we  have  already  men- 
tioned.   The  total  of  varying  notes  in  the  two  resolved 
notes  of  the  chord,  together  with  their  over-tones,  are 
therefore  B,  D,  F  sharp,  D  sharp,  A,  C  sharp,  E  sharp, 

C,  E  and  G  sharp. 

From  this  exposition  we  discern  that,  in  the  resolu- 
tion of  the  tonic  triad,  G  and  its  over-tones  D,  B,  F,  A 
and  C  sharp  are  stationary,  while  E  and  its  over-tones 
B,  G  sharp,  D,  F  sharp  and  A  sharp,  resolve  to  D  and 
its  over-tones  A,  F  sharp,  C,  E,  and  G  sharp,  while  C 
and  its  over-tones  G,  E,  B  flat,  D,  and  F  sharp,  resolve 
to  B  and  its  over-tones  F  sharp,  D  sharp,  A,  C  sharp, 
and  E  sharp. 

If,  from  one  of  the  simplest  chord  progressions, 
together  with  its  struck  or  otherwise  sounded  over-tones, 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

such  strange  clashings  are  obtained,  what  must  result 
from  chord  progressions  in  the  whole  tone  scales  and 
the  archaic  modes?  Our  question  pertains  only  to 
possibilities,  for,  though  the  simultaneous  use  of  all 
over-tones  is  warranted  by  his  theory,  Debussy  rarely 
proceeds  to  such  lengths.  If,  by  nature  or  through 
cultivation,  Debussy's  ear  is  super-sensitive  to  the 
over-tones  in  chord  progression,  it  does  not  follow  that 
he  should  inflict  them  on  the  musical  public.  It  is 
safe  to  contend  that  if,  in  the  development  of  music 
during  the  modern  centuries,  the  over-tones  had  been 
considered,  a  way  would  have  been  devised  to  make 
their  succession  somewhat  euphonious.  Against  this 
contention  it  will  be  asserted  that  the  major  triad,  with 
octave,  yth,  and  9th,  was  built  up  gradually  from  the 
over-tones  of  the  root,  and  that  the  moderns  have 
only  enlarged  the  chord. 

As  we  have  said  in  a  previous  chapter,  Holman  Hunt 
was  a  painter  whose  backgrounds  were  finished  with 
the  same  minutiae  as  were  his  foregrounds.  Thus  his 
pictures  convey  little  or  no  idea  of  distance.  This 
defect  in  his  art  was  due  to  a  seeming  excellence  in 
himself.  To  his  keen  and  far-reaching  vision,  distances 
meant  but  little.  In  fact,  he  painted  the  landscape  as 
he  saw  it.  We  hold  that,  because  of  his  phenomenal 
ear,  Debussy  is  at  least  as  unfortunate  as  was  Hunt. 
On  the  other  hand,  Debussy's  admirers  behold  in  him 

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MODERN  MUSIC 

the  forerunner  of  musicians  equally  sensitive  to  the 
over-tones.  He  is  compared  to  Manet  and  Monet 
whose  sensitiveness  to  color  caused  them  to  paint 
atmospheres  rather  than  objects. 

As  a  painter  of  musical  atmospheres,  Debussy 
excludes  nearly  everything  that  enlisted  the  energies 
of  Bach  the  contrapuntist,  and  of  Beethoven  whose 
harmonies  prove  his  consummate  mastery  of  melodic 
voice  progression^  In  lieu  of  consecutive  ideas  appeal- 
3th  the  heart  and  the  intellect,  Debussy,  by 
means  of  unrelated  chords,  gives  impressions  which 
appeal  to  the  merely  emotional  nature.  It  is  interest- 
ing to  note  that,  while  the  Impressionist  painters  seek 
entrance  to  the  musician's  domain,  Debussy  would 
become  a  musical  painter.  His  detached  chords  cor- 
respond with  the  divided  colors  of  the  Impressionist 
painters,  and,  as  when  viewed  from  a  certain  position, 
these  colors  blend  in  a  harmonious  whole,  so  Debussy's 
characteristic  progressions  are  supposed  to  merge  in 
one  closely-woven  concord  provided  the  hearer  is 
in  receptive  attitude. 

On  its  face,  this  assumption  seems  ridiculous;  but 
that  such  an  effect  has  been  produced,  much  senti- 
mental gush  over  Debussy's  music  amply  proves.  The 
mood  necessary  to  the  transformation  of  his  cacophony 
is  the  mood  inducive  of  a  self-hypnotism  which  quite 
subverts  the  critical  judgment.  By  the  way,  a  key  to 

103 


MODERN  MUSIC 

many  singular  doings  of  such  musical  Impressionists 
as  Debussy,  is  found  in  this  their  favorite  formula  : 
should  any  chord,  however  dissonant,  convey  a  desired 
sensation,  that  sensation  is  emphasized  if,  instead  of 
resolving  it,  the  chord  be  repeated  on  various  degrees 
of  the  scale.  •*- 


It  is  a  defect  of  the  ordinary  church  hmn  tune, 
that  stanzas  embodying  diverse  sentiments  must  adapt 
themselves  to  it.  The  same  is  true  of  any  melody 
written  for  one  stanza  of  a  series.  This  defect,  so 
pronounced  in  Italian  Opera,  Wagner  remedied  by 
a  compromise  between  melody  and  free  recitative. 
Debussy  has  carried  this  reform  perhaps  beyond  its 
logical  conclusion.  Every  suspicion  of  melody  is 
banished  from  the  vocal  score  of  his  operas,  but,  to 
some  extent,  the  compromise  exists  in  the  orchestral 
score. 

Because  of  the  vagueness  of  Debussy's  chord  move- 
ments, the  point  and  impressiveness  obtainable  only 
through  a  definite  tonal  progression  which  acknowledges 
a  tonic  center,  is  absent  from  his  figures  and  motifs. 
If  these  be  performed  piano,  or,  better,  pianissimo, 
their  lack  is  less  apparent;  but,  if  blared  forth  after 
the  manner  of  Wagner  or  Strauss,  they  reveal  them- 
selves as  mere  empty  noise.  Perhaps  such  a  test  is 
not  wholly  just,  because  any  theme  from  any  master 
of  the  classical  or  the  romantic  school  loses  much, 

104 


MODERN  MUSIC 

though  not  all  distinction,  if  performed  with  a  stress 
and  in  a  tempo  quite  foreign  to  it. 

A  fair  estimate  of  Debussy's  music,  one  that  after 
times  will  endorse,  is  not  an  easy  matter.  No  doubt, 
he  should  be  judged  in  the  large,  rather  than  by  certain 
admired  passages  either  in  his  operas,  or  his  songs,  or 
his  piano  pieces.  Usually  these  excerpts  little  repre- 
sent the  radical  composer  but,  instead,  his  leaning 
toward  conventional  melody  and  harmony.  Debussy's 
writing  down  of  over-tones  seems  to  us  whimsical, 
seeing  that  these  have  their  unwritten  over-tones. 
This  much  suggests  the  query :  may  not  his  musical 
impressionism  be  a  super-refined  estheticism  induced 
and  fostered  by  an  environment  of  ultra-modern  French 
theory  and  practice  of  poetry  and  painting  ? 

While  it  is  true  that  the  old  modes  at  times  reappear 
fragmentarily  in  the  masterpieces  of  the  contrapuntal 
and  the  classical  schools  which,  of  course,  are  based 
on  the  diatonic  scale,  we  yet  contend  that  well-nigh 
complete  return  to  those  modes,  by  means  of  the  whole 
tone  scales,  and  analogous  methods,  is  the  opposite  of 
progress,  because  the  diatonic  scale  was  an  improve- 
ment of  its  predecessors. 

While  Debussy  is  enamored  of  the  archaic  as 
expressed  in  the  six-tone  scales,  those  without  tonic  or 
dominant,  beginning,  middle,  or  end,  and  while  the 
Russian  composer  Scriabine  uses  a  six-tone  scale 

I05 


MODERN  MUSIC 

slightly  different,  because  formed  of  the  8th,  gth, 
loth,  nth,  i3th,  and  i4th  harmonics,  we  discover  the 
antithesis  of  these  men  in  Max  Reger  who  admits 
the  validity  of  only  one  scale,  that  of  twelve  semi-tones, 
all  of  equal  value,  in  fact  the  duodecuple  scale,  one 
not  to  be  confounded  with  the  chromatic  scale,  that 
modification  of  the  diatonic.  While  Max  Reger's  scale 
acknowledges  a  tonic,  we  find  Debussy  oftentimes 
leaving  the  cramped  circle  of  his  whole  tone  scales  for 
the  larger  duodecuple  scale  in  which  he  abjures  the  tonic. 

It  would  be  deeply  interesting  and  very  enlightening 
could  we  determine  to  what  extent  the  unrest  of  mod- 
ern life  has  found  lodgment  in  the  susceptible  artistic 
mind,  to  be  reflected  forth  in  its  creations.  That  this 
unrest  is  approaching  a  pathological  condition  seems 
more  than  a  surmise,  but  so  insiduous  and  gradual  is 
the  approach  and  so  potent  is  the  spell  of  that  condi- 
tion, that,  because  born  into  the  change,  the  present 
generation  seems  quite  unaware  of  any  departure  from 
the  normal. 

An  eminent  exponent  of  modern  musical  theory  — if 
that  which  savours  chiefly  of  caprice  can  be  termed 
theory  —  has  expressed  belief  that,  ere  long,  one  about 
to  perform  diatonic  music  must  first  apologize  for  his 
act.  Now,  while  acknowledging  that  the  diatonic  scale 
is  open  to  certain  criticisms  which  the  adherents  of 
other  scale  systems  have  not  failed  to  voice,  we  yet 

1 06 


MODERN  MUSIC 

contend  that  whereas,  the  modes  and  their  modern 
substitutes,  the  whole  tone  scales  and  certain  others  of 
recent  date,  are  defective,  the  duodecuple  scale  also 
has  its  shortcomings,  one  of  which  is  the  absence  of 
a  real  dominant.  True,  its  defenders  have  generally 
agreed  upon  a  sort  of  dominant,  the  augmented  4th, 
or  its  equivalent  the  flatted  5th ;  the  F  sharp  reckoning 
from  C.  Still,  the  result  is  vagueness,  uncertainty, 
restlessness ;  admirable  as  the  expression  of  a  mood, 
but  quite  unfit  to  color  a  composer's  work,  unless  he 
be  a  hypochondriac  or  a  pessimist. 

Certain  versatile  composers  of  former  times  having 
employed  with  discrimination  not  only  the  modes,  but 
also  the  chromatic  scale  using  it  duodecuply,  there- 
fore we  hear  that  the  new  school  is  based  on  the 
bed-rock  from  which  the  old  arose.  And  so  we  must 
needs  have  a  cult  of  late  comers  adopting  as  a  rule 
what  before  was  an  exception.  Not  only  this,  but 
many  expounders  of  musical  theory  —  those  whose 
immediate  predecessors  had  frowned  on  such  trifles  as 
open,  consecutive  perfect  5ths  —  are  straining  them- 
selves in  an  effort  to  conform  their  teachings  to  the 
wider  and  wider  departures  of  the  new  school,  many 
of  whose  representatives  have  wholly  renounced  tradi- 
tional methods. 

Unresolved  and  unresolvable  cacophony  has  resulted 
from  the  doings  of  a  group  of  ultra  composers  each  a 

107 


MODERN  MUSIC 

little  more  daring  because  of  the  boldness  of  the 
others ;  and  yet,  modern  tendencies  in  harmonic  treat- 
ment began  in  what  now  would  be  deemed  a  mild  way. 

Among  the  earliest  innovations  are  found  numerous 
scale  progressions  of  open,  perfect  5ths  and  their  inver- 
sions, perfect  4ths,  all  used  to  insure  that  vagueness 
for  which  originally  they  were  condemned.  Also,  for 
vagueness,  were  omitted  those  intermediate  chords 
which  otherwise  bind  and  clarify  the  harmony.  Then 
came  open  5ths  and  4ths  in  skips;  also  scale  move- 
ment of  tonic  chords  in  their  first  position  ;  also  chords 
of  the  yth  and  the  gth  progressing  in  scale  movement 
or  otherwise ;  also  the  yths  and  the  Qths  of  these  joined 
to  their  roots  as  major  2nds  and  used  in  skips,  or  in 
scales  both  diatonically  and  duodecuply;  also  there 
were  numerous  attempts  at  greater  sonority  by  means 
of  the  major  2nd  in  almost  any  chord;  also  there 
came  into  use  chords  composed  of  mixed  intervals,  or 
of  unequal  4ths  and  5ths,  or  else  of  such  equal  inter- 
vals as  minor  or  major  4ths  or  5ths,  whereas,  in  the 
older  system,  only  major  and  minor  3ds  were  so  used. 
Meanwhile  the  new  school  Impressionists  were  build- 
ing chords  without  regard  to  a  scientific  basis,  and 
sometimes  piling  them  to  enormous  proportions. 

Contemporaneous  with  this  desperate  striving  for 
the  unusual,  the  use  of  major  3rds  and  6ths  progress- 
ing by  whole  tones  led  to  the  adoption  of  whole  tone 

1 08 


MODERN  MUSIC 

scales  on  which,  as  we  have  seen,  Debussy  and  his 
kind  built  their  system  of  over-tones.  It  was  now 
customary  to  close  on  some  chord  or  note  once  con- 
sidered quite  foreign  to  the  tonic,  or  the  dominant,  or 
the  sub-dominant.  This  and  more  was  but  an  applica- 
tion of  the  saying  that  scales  are  artificial,  since  tonality 
alone  is  real.  Then  came  chords  without  other  than 
Impressionist  significance  and  used  singly,  or  in 
sequence ;  also  chords  altered  chromatically  until  they 
defied  analysis. 

Evidently,  it  was  no  longer  an  innovation  to  use 
any  succession  of  mixed  chords  without  regard  to  the 
satisfactory  disposition  of  other  than  the  keenest  dis- 
sonance in  each.  Such  procedure  as  we  have  outlined 
also  allowed  any  discord  to  move  directly  to  the  tonic 
harmony,  and  almost  any  succession  of  single  notes 
or  harmonies  to  move  in  conjunction  with  a  figure  in 
another  key,  provided  the  figure  was  first  established 
in  the  mind.  Also,  modern  procedure  allowed  not 
merely  the  free  entrance,  but  even  the  free  exit  of  any 
harmonies  moving  against  a  pedal  chord.  Not  to  go 
further  into  details  necessary  to  an  understanding  of 
the  situation,  composers  were  now  prepared  for  cacoph- 
onies of  the  rankest  kind  wherein  almost  every  note  of 
the  duodecuple  scale  would  sound  simultaneously. 

The  method,  peculiar  to  the  new  French  school,  of 
mirroring  chords  by  an  exact  reversal  of  their  intervals, 

109 


MODERN  MUSIC 

works  well  in  the  whole  tone  system,  but  is  productive 
of  queer  results  in  the  diatonic.  Thus  C,  E,  G,  B  flat, 
if  mirrored,  give  C,  A  flat,  F,  D,  while  the  old  method 
of  reversion  gives  C,  G,  E,  and  the  B  flat  below  the  C, 
or  the  E.  Whereas,  by  sounding  together  the  two 
chords  according  to  the  new  method  and  then  those 
produced  by  the  old,  we  discover  to  what  extent 
euphony  is  being  sacrificed  to  mere  musical  mathe- 
matics. When,  as  numerous  examples  attest,  the 
mathematical  phrase  is  joined  to  the  harmonic  sys- 
tem, and  a  free  Impressionism,  the  result  is  actual 
incoherence. 

So  methodical  has  been  the  departure  to  the  patho- 
logical that  such  cacophonists  as  Strauss,  Debussy, 
Ravel,  Cyril  Scott,  Stravinsky,  Scriabine,  and  Schonberg, 
perceive  either  beauty  or  dramatic  truth  in  what  to  the 
unsophisticated  is  only  disagreeable  noise.  So  obsessed 
by  theory  are  they  that  not  one  realizes  to  what  extent 
the  hideous  exists  in  certain  of  his  creations.  How- 
ever, the  point  where  the  disagreeable  in  any  art  begins 
will  depend  upon  the  peculiarities  of  the  individual. 

Ill 

In  our  survey  of  modern  painting  and  poetry,  we 
saw  the  Futurism  of  Marinetti  rejected  by  his  Italian 
countrymen,  but  afterwards  encouraged,  and  even 

no 


MODERN  MUSIC 

gaining  disciples,  in  the  art  circles  of  Great  Britain. 
Meanwhile,  in  America,  a  nation  new  to  the  fine  arts, 
we  found  the  Synchromists  developing  the  latest  phase 
of  Modernism  in  painting,  while  the  makers  of  vcrs 
libre  were  enjoying  a  mushroom  growth.  What  wonder 
that  the  musical  Impressionism  of  the  new  French 
composers,  and  even  the  outre  of  their  contemporaries 
in  Russia  and  Germany,  should  break  out  in  England ! 
Already  Cyril  Scott  and  some  others  are  badly  infected, 
but  let  us  hope  the  disease  will  not  become  epidemic. 

As  for  Max  Reger,  that  thoroughly  German  illustrator 
of  modern  methods,  at  first  sight  he  seems  a  more 
complex  Bach ;  but,  while  Bach's  most  intricate  coun- 
terpoint is  always  logically  clear,  that  of  the  other 
often  degenerates  to  the  obscure  and  the  turgid.  This 
because,  in  the  place  of  modulation,  his  duodecuple 
theory  allows  abrupt  transition  to  almost  any  key.  As 
a  whole,  Max  Reger's  compositions  show  head  effort 
rather  than  heart  impulse.  Still,  his  avoidance  of  sheer 
cacophony  is  almost  a  virtue  in  these  days  of  abrupt 
surprises  and  violent  shocks  to  the  auditory  nerves. 

While  we  cannot  dispute  that  war  has  given  to 
mankind  the  Iliad  of  Homer  and  many  another  mas- 
terpiece of  poetry,  both  ancient  and  modern,  and  while 
we  grant  that  war  often  has  inspired  both  the  painter 
and  the  sculptor,  and  that  it  has  incited  music  fiery 
as  that  wherewith  the  Marseillaise  roused  the  French 

in 


MODERN  MUSIC 

Revolutionists  to  even  greater  frenzy,  we  nevertheless 
contend  that  neither  on  war  nor  unrest,  but  only  on 
peace,  can  a  rounded  art  be  based. 

Peace  being  the  normal  condition  of  man,  it  alone 
favors  the  normal  development  of  his  higher  faculties, 
including  imagination.  War  is  a  stimulant  which  gives 
to  the  artistic  output  the  quality  of  vehemence,  or  it  is 
an  intoxicant  rendering  that  output  coarse,  or  brutal, 
or  incoherent.  Vehemence  is  a  compelling  quality 
in  the  work  of  poet,  painter,  or  musician ;  but  its 
prominence  means  the  subordination  of  certain  other 
qualities  essential  to  a  symmetrical  whole. 

Because  it  is  an  abnormal  condition,  restlessness  is 
not  a  begetter  of  qualities ;  in  fact,  it  admits  of  no 
concentrated  effort  essential  to  their  birth  and  develop- 
ment. Rather  it  is  a  deteriorator  of  qualities,  and  this 
for  art  means  decadence.  That  in  certain  quarters  the 
spirit  of  restlessness  is  infesting  art  is  obvious  enough  ; 
but,  at  bottom,  this  restlessness  is  of  a  world-wide  kind 
and  portends  some  profound  change  —  for  the  better 
let  us  hope  —  in  the  conditions  of  human  society. 

For  the  real  exposition  of  this  matter,  let  it  be 
understood  that  the  Creative  Word,  of  which  music  is 
an  expression,  has  a  negative  or  destructive  potentcy, 
as  well  as  a  positive  or  creative  one.  Strauss'  employ- 
ment of  this  negative  potency  too  often  depicts  the 
vehement  and  brutal  spirit  of  destructive  war,  whereas, 

112 


MODERN  MUSIC 

Debussy  and  Ravel's  use  of  it  depicts  the  restlessness 
of  the  sentimental,  sighing  being,  whose  only  source  of 
disquiet  is  mental  and  bodily  weakness.  While  Debussy 
and  Ravel  depict  individual,  feminine  restlessness, 
Max  Reger  sometimes  depicts  masculine  restlessness. 
At  other  times  his  pretentious  works  depict  the  larger 
world  restlessness. 

Though  the  poet  is  a  conscious  seer,  the  musician 
is  an  unconscious  one  who,  in  his  moments  of  inspira- 
tion, enters  the  world  of  causes  to  project  outward,  by 
means  of  his  art,  those  events  which  as  yet  have  not 
materialized  to  the  ordinary  eye.  Unknown  to  himself, 
the  world  war  existed  in  the  cacophony  of  Strauss 
years  before  the  events  which  precipitated  the  conflict. 
To-day  that  cacophony  is  not  only  tolerated,  but  has 
actually  found  admirers  for  the  basic  reason  that  what 
in  tone's  mysterious  language  was  there  foretold,  is  now 
with  us. 

Moreover,  the  individual  and  world  restlessness 
which  preceded  and  is  now  accompanying  the  war, 
even  as  clouds  precede  and  accompany  the  storm,  is 
the  inner  incentive  of  those  musicians  who  employ  a 
system  of  tonality  requiring  no  tonic  repose.  This 
also  is  true  of  those  who  habitually  employ  abrupt 
transition  instead  of  modulation.  Therefore  the  music 
of  both  Claude  Debussy  and  Max  Reger  is  acceptable 
to-day  whereas,  for  specific  reasons,  a  pure  polyphony 


MODERN  MUSIC 

in  the  time  of  Bach,  and  a  pure  classicism  in  the  time 
of  Mozart,  and  a  departure  toward  Romanticism  in  the 
time  of  Schumann  and  Chopin,  were  the  ideals  which 
met  general  requirements. 

As  the  latest  tonal  expression  of  chaotic  conditions 
created  by  the  present  world  upheaval,  listen  to  the 
efforts  of  Schonberg  that  riddle  of  the  serious  musician, 
inasmuch  as  he  would  be  taken  seriously,  even  as 
would  the  Cubist  painters  and  the  Symbolist  poets 
who  themselves  are  the  product  and  expression  of 
abnormal  world  conditions. 

Because  of  our  interpretation  of  causes,  we  grant  to 
Schonberg,  even  when  his  seemingly  unrelated  har- 
monies move  together,  a  seriousness  perhaps  incom- 
prehensible from  any  other  viewpoint.  Heard  in  the 
usual  way,  this  composer's  rhythmless  cacophony  seems 
destitute  of  ideas  as  are  the  ravings  of  the  madhouse ; 
but,  to  hear  Schonberg  aright,  one  is  supposed  to  sep- 
arate mentally  the  harmonic  streams  which,  in  different 
keys,  clash  and  grind  in  utmost  dissonance. 

To  separate  mentally  these  harmonic  streams,  we 
are  told  to  acquire  the  habit  of  what  is  called  hori- 
zontal listening.  In  hearing  any  ordinary  counterpoint, 
we  consider  the  individual  parts  both  singly  and  in 
their  harmonic  relation  to  the  others.  This  act  may  be 
named  horizontal  and  perpendicular  listening.  Now  we 
are  assured  that  if,  in  estimating  the  new  composers,  we 

114 


MODERN  MUSIC 

forego  perpendicular  listening  and  concentrate  on  hori- 
zontal listening,  the  clashing  and  grinding  of  different 
keys  will  not  offend  the  ear.  Granting  this  brings  us 
only  to  the  decisive  question :  Is  the  result  worth  the 
effort?  Judging  by  such  examples  of  Schonberg's 
work  as  have  come  to  our  notice  we  must  reply  in  the 
negative. 

As  Schonberg  has  his  followers,  they,  if  sincere, 
must  somehow  have  gained  his  peculiar  outlook.  In 
justice  to  this  composer,  we  will  say  that  many  of  his 
simultaneous  chords,  though  seemingly  independent, 
are  built  up  from  a  common  root.  Possibly  Schonberg 
has  adopted  methods  analogous  to  those  of  certain 
ultra  schools  of  poetry.  Perhaps  his  chords  should  be 
regarded  as  symbols,  or  else  as  images  supposedly  able 
to  stimulate  the  listener  to  a  mental  filling  in  of  what 
is  absent  from  the  printed  score. 

After  Schonberg  what?  In  other  words,  after  the 
world  war  what  road  will  music  find  open  to  itself, 
either  as  a  progressive  art  or  a  decadent  one  ?  Should 
that  time  mean  a  surface  peace,  one  hiding  but  not 
quenching  the  old  fires  of  jealousy  and  hatred,  then 
no  good  course  can  be  prophesied  for  music,  or  any 
other  art  able  to  epitomize  world  conditions :  but  if,  as 
we  believe,  an  era  of  human  brotherhood  more  sincere 
and  general  than  any  heretofore  known,  is  to  come 
from  the  crucible  of  war,  we  may  predict  for  the  fine 

"5 


MODERN  MUSIC 

arts  a  turning  from  the  pathological  toward  the  sane 
and  wholesome. 

The  words  sane  and  wholesome  are  indefinite,  but 
we  may  perhaps  narrow  their  scope  to  something  like 
exactness.  Wars  have  come  and  gone  and  the  shadow 
of  their  darkest  hours  has  often  obscured  the  sun  of 
world  progress,  but  never,  for  a  moment,  has  such  an 
eclipse  retarded  its  passage  to  the  calmer  and  clearer 
regions  of  a  higher  shining.  Since  modern  composers 
are  striving  with  might  and  main  to  break  from  the 
diatonic  system,  it  is  possible  that  a  scale  more  sub- 
divided than  the  duodecuple,  and  of  which  the  Orient  has 
taught  us  something,  will  prove  the  means  toward  the  sane 
and  wholesome  which  that  loftier  light  is  to  illuminate. 

That  future  composers  cannot  return  to  Bach  is 
certain.  Even  to  us  his  music  does  not  convey  just 
what  it  did  to  his  contemporaries  in  their  quaint  semi- 
mediaeval  world.  Nor  are  the  methods  of  the  grand 
old  master  pliant  to  modern  improvement.  The  unfor- 
tunate attempts  of  Max  Reger,  who  would  be  a  more 
learned  and  recondite  Bach,  go  far  toward  warranting 
the  contention  that  the  contrapuntal  school  has  finished 
its  work.  The  goodly  company  of  the  classical  com- 
posers, their  mission  also  accomplished,  has  moved  on 
with  Brahms  lagging  much  in  the  rear.  Those  of  the 
Romanticist  group,  fantastic  at  first  appearance,  then 
interesting,  then  adorable,  are  thus  far  perhaps  the 

116 


MODERN  MUSIC 

last  rightful  children  of  the  Muse ;  but  these  alas ! 
have  joined  the  great  fellowship  of  those  whose  destiny 
it  was  to  enlarge  the  boundaries  of  their  chosen  art. 

No  effort  born  of  sincerity  can  in  all  ways  be  useless. 
No  belief  based  on  honest  conviction  but  contains  a 
nucleus  of  truth  for  those  who  can  discover  and  appro- 
priate it.  In  the  sincere  effort  and  in  the  kernel  of 
truth  discernible  in  certain  of  such  recent  experiments 
in  painting  as  Impressionism,  Neo-Impressionism,  Post- 
Impressionism,  Cubism,  Futurism,  Synchromisin,  and 
in  the  better  poetry  of  vers  libre,  and  in  the  best  work 
of  Debussy  and  other  late  composers,  is  found  their 
sufficient  excuse  for  being,  and  their  ability  to  con- 
tribute to  a  composite  art  of  which  music  may  become 
the  magnetic  center. 

While  such  a  mere  external  as  fashion  in  dress  moves 
almost  in  a  circle,  we  cannot  admit  this  purposelessness 
in  the  deep  and  high  things  of  life.  Religion,  Philos- 
ophy, Art,  and  Science,  demand  at  least  a  spiral  at 
whose  top  is  the  ultimate  end,  perhaps  a  unification 
as  incomprehensible  to  man's  at  present  undeveloped 
higher  senses  as  would  be  the  merging  of  every  note 
of  the  duodecuple  scale  in  one  concentrated  tone 
comparable  to  the  synthetic  white  of  the  sun. 


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